Now
you are the absent father
you are the hole
the sky bleached of stars
scrubbed of the eyes
both attentive and blind
that God used to use
to spy on
me.
me.
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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