SPIRITUAL LETTERS 1-12, DAVID MILLER, 1999
SPIRITUAL LETTERS - 1
For an end, a constant ending: images from a life counterpoised with imageless reflections. Smoke rises, spreads over roofs. In the room a sparrow huddles against the wall, near books and china. We discuss the transcendent and the satirical, and find ourselves wondering: a novel? The streets of paper blacken. Burning animals amongst burning trees haunted the child. You cannot get from A to B by walking a line from one to other. The girl's eyes habituated to begging touch your lips, burning them. Memory's blasted. He'll keep a record of the epiphany in his breast pocket, if not sewn into the lining of his coat.
SPIRITUAL LETTERS - 8
-You can't call any writing that's not concerned with drug-taking contemporary, someone said. -The analogy being a mirror...?-Are you who I think you are? he asked, and mentioned my name. -No, I replied, I'm somebody else. The long process of revision appealed to me with its possibilities of erasure and reversal. A layering of memories and images. A hand touching, a finger travelling along the line of affection. Late; voices loud, in the heat. No form of rhetoric could be adequate to what needs to be said, one to another. Drawn from her face, as we talked: an edge splendent in the obscurity. Unbearable to recall.
By David Miller, published by William Cirocco, Hawhhaven Press, San Francisco, CA.