oof n’goop : conglomerate-entity-blob. plopping i want to push it out, birthing impossibility -- an extraction, dissection, plucking with tweezers, the exactness of a ginormous THING. right from organs/intestines/inner-goo, dripping drop-by-drip dissolvable-powered stomach acid, emanating ripe rancid smells smoke stank gaseous liquids solids, radioactive with privacy: personal, embarrassing body-gloop.
“Get yourself out of whatever cage you find yourself in” -John Cage (Nelson 54).
When they mistakenly choose a thing over you, the quivering of your heart, a ferocious trembling in the crisp dryness of winter. The moment of temptation, a trackless tunnel into their eyes, reflecting a mirror of desire & conflict. That temptation is not towards you.
Maybe I’m obsessed with validation and purpose. A needle is in my stomach. It pokes me periodically. Where are you from, poke. What is your purpose, poke. Who is your family, poke poke. I asked Them, the two relatives who would know family history, for a deeper understanding of the bodies, beings, minds, occupations, preoccupations, histories of my family. I asked Them for traditions. I asked Them for ethnicities. I asked Them for hometowns and cultural practices and stories. I want flesh and blood. I want answers. I want identity.