we are hard, Margaret Atwood

i.

We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our jagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.

The things we say are
true; it is our crooked
aims, our choices
turn them criminal.


ii.

Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.

Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over and over
perhaps because you own
so few of them.


iii.

A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you

is that a fact or a weapon?


iv.

Does the body lie
moving like this, are these
touches, hairs, wet
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me?

Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or
speak truth either.

It is only
here or not here.

Are you looking for a new book to read? We’re starting on Margaret Atwood’s “The Blind Assassin” over at Read Hard! and we’ll be reading this for two weeks. This is an invitation to come join us, basically! It looks pretty quiet over there right now, but we have over 1,300 members (insane, right?) but we could do with a lot more, especially if you are interested in discourse, meeting new people, and flailing over good books. This one looks particularly promising. I have been a fan of Atwood’s poetry since I started college, maybe, but I’ve only read one novel of hers so far (“The Penelopiad” — it’s great, but it’s apparently one of her “lesser” novels, so it must mean that this one is explosive). “The Blind Assassin” is a novel-within-a-novel, and I don’t know what that means, exactly, right now, but I’m adding this to my October reading pile, because I need to scrape together a little bit of dignity after declaring that in the same pile, I have a book called “The Treasure Map of Boys.” (To be fair, though, E. Lockhart writes excellent young adult fiction. But I am 22, so maybe my argument is invalid.) Anyway, again! We’ll be reading “The Blind Assassin” until October 14th. Get your copies now! I will try to finish this one quickly so I can lend it to someone who is a) interested, and b) my friend. :)
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Are you looking for a new book to read? We’re starting on Margaret Atwood’s “The Blind Assassin” over at Read Hard! and we’ll be reading this for two weeks. This is an invitation to come join us, basically! It looks pretty quiet over there right now, but we have over 1,300 members (insane, right?) but we could do with a lot more, especially if you are interested in discourse, meeting new people, and flailing over good books.

This one looks particularly promising. I have been a fan of Atwood’s poetry since I started college, maybe, but I’ve only read one novel of hers so far (“The Penelopiad” — it’s great, but it’s apparently one of her “lesser” novels, so it must mean that this one is explosive).

“The Blind Assassin” is a novel-within-a-novel, and I don’t know what that means, exactly, right now, but I’m adding this to my October reading pile, because I need to scrape together a little bit of dignity after declaring that in the same pile, I have a book called “The Treasure Map of Boys.” (To be fair, though, E. Lockhart writes excellent young adult fiction. But I am 22, so maybe my argument is invalid.)

Anyway, again! We’ll be reading “The Blind Assassin” until October 14th. Get your copies now! I will try to finish this one quickly so I can lend it to someone who is a) interested, and b) my friend.

:)

Late Night, Margaret Atwood

Late night and rain wakes me, a downpour,
wind thrashing in the leaves, huge
ears, huge feathers,
like some chased animal, a giant
dog or wild boar. Thunder & shivering
windows; from the tin roof
the rush of water.

I lie askew under the net,
tangled in damp cloth, salt in my hair.
When this clears there will be fireflies
& stars, brighter than anywhere,
which I could contemplate at times
of panic. Lightyears, think of it.

Screw poetry, it’s you I want,
your taste, rain
on you, mouth on your skin.

we are hard, Margaret Atwood

i.

We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our jagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.

The things we say are
true; it is our crooked
aims, our choices
turn them criminal.


ii.

Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.

Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over and over
perhaps because you own
so few of them.


iii.

A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you

is that a fact or a weapon?


iv.

Does the body lie
moving like this, are these
touches, hairs, wet
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me?

Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or
speak truth either.

It is only
here or not here.