You who would have me
run this trail to elude me,
who would have you, and I do.
You slow and I pounce and we
tumble together,
relishing our exquisite death.
You who would have me
run this trail to elude me,
who would have you, and I do.
You slow and I pounce and we
tumble together,
relishing our exquisite death.

But I’ll get it done before I die



Fairfield Porter in a letter to Aline Porter, Christmas Day, 1951

I saw four, maybe five
lightning bolts, and then
a man walked by with a chair.
He was sure, one hundred percent
sure of what he was doing.
He didn’t sit on the chair.
A ghost did. The ghost explained everything,
and everything was perfectly clear.
