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lydia-hirsch
lydia-hirsch
Both furthest north & furthest west in all of America, we drove through pouring rain A sign on the side of the road read Beach 1 After days of driving, driving through Washington, Oregon, we arrived at a beach we never intended to find The beach where water flowed in streams across the sand, where a family of seals swam close to shore, playing, disappearing into the flat & endless water I saw a bald eagle for the first time as we drove through Washington, I watched it fly above us through the window clouded with raindrops, I thought I felt patriotic for a minute or two Though I’m neither birdwatcher nor patriot, the solemn bird left me with a strange feeling, which I realized wasn’t patriotism-- the strength & bitterness in the bird’s eyes and its steady, prideful flight belonged to no country The feeling returned to me on this beach of another world, or of this world before it was The feeling was that it was good to be alive and that I would change nothing about my existence, A thousand agonies were worth enduring to have seen that bird and the first of all beaches When the sky is brilliantly dark, when freshwater penetrates driftwood, joins the ocean on the first and only necessary beach: Yes, it is good to be alive
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
Beach 1
Wooden woman waiting outside of a grocery store in North Berkeley Made tired by time, chips of wood had fallen in masses from her body, entire aspects of her anatomy had eroded away-- most of her nose, her left ear, her right cheek, her ******* half her stomach She had been a tree, torn apart, reassembled in the form of a female human being, no sign of life in her sightless gaze I guess she’s gone now, after all those years I went to look for her and found only an antique shop with a peculiar name at the address where she should have been I would have liked to have seen her one last time, this statue that fascinated and frightened me as a child I’m glad she’s gone, though-- She resemble less and less a woman, was becoming clearly merely wood cut into tiny pieces and glued together She resembled less and less a woman, and I’m glad she was killed before she ceased to be art
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Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
The Wooden Woman