Thursday, July 12, 2012

Husbands and Writers

I am married to a woodcutter and a tree thief. With the shaving and splinters they bring home, I make words that turn to sawdust, and then pulp in my hands with each night's tears. The weight of the paper wraps my heart in poetry, broken lines that evolve into a new work, until I am ready to bear their promises and grins (the thief) and bristly-bearded kisses (the woodcutter) again every morning. Whatever money exists to buy this place, let it come now: for I am tired of being the author of a barren kingdom.


  1. Striking picture. Striking words.

  2. As young girls, we walked in laces and pale makeup, forsake sleep and food to write poetry and think deep, deep thoughts. Looked sadly at each other and whispered ”No one said it would be easy…”

    I am barefoot and cold. I am humbled and empty. I am learning to let go.

    I think I´m beginning to get a grasp of some of it. Maybe. This week I´m married to a centaur, it´s a bit painful, but no more than I can handle ;) In some ways it makes me happy. The barren kingdom is not mine to buy, I believe it´s yours to write, but if I may, I´ll keep you company from afar.

    1. This "company from afar" concept intrigues me. If it's possible to have fika with you and your centaur husband like that, I would do it. The tea will be bad. You won't say anything, because you're too polite. We'll talk about Prora, about going too far. About being young girls once, and how that's never enough. I'll make a comparison to the Third Reich and everyone will be uncomfortable and I won't be able to un-say it. But just to make me feel better, you'll jump in a stranger's lap and say something awkward about sex and they will be uncomfortable, even though everyone laughs.

      This is how these things usually end.

    2. We´re there!

      And that´s EXACTLY how everything ends all the time.

      Oh, and I´ll have coffee, please =)