SCENT OF THE DAY: NOSE REST DAY
*Let’s workshop this poem about clit buzzing after maternal filicide—a practice overlooked and suppressed in our desperation to preserve the remaining sliver of our cultural idealization of motherhood.
Clancy Update
There is an eros to murder— one too many cases where after the kiddo feet stop kicking
from the hang-time, mamma’s Hitachi comes buzzing right the fuck out: a quickness,
for a gal always losing her keys, that by any sensible standard indicates premeditation.
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right)
