prove nothing except our own
with a predictable God
— they shake up the universe

My dreams last night showed me a street filled with people blowing their noses. I felt revolted and wanted to get away from them. In reality, I have a habit of blowing my nose quite a lot. Back in 1979 when I first began to encounter ‘psychotic’ reality, I often used to see around me, on the street, people who seemed to reflect some aspect of myself as seen from the point of view of my stepmother’s mother (with whom I was living). It was like there being no difference any more, between ‘me’ and the vast mass of undifferentiated male humanity: because I was seeing the world from the female point of view. I guess my poem investigates this sense of eeriness, and says that, in some sort of way, we need eeriness. Also, I think it’s interesting to reflect that there has probably never been a human being in the history of the planet, who didn’t, at some time or another, experience a creepy coincidence. What does that mean?


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