In my dream, people were bringing boats together. Barges. Yachts. Rubber rafts. Tree trunks tied together with ropes. These boats were being welded and strung and fastened together under a light gray drizzle on a dingy, ashy beach.
The melting frost on my window |
shatters the light that tries
to go through it. Telling stories
that connect things is an abomination.
I think I am so special I can tell
a new story and the connections will
be so perfect there won’t be any
abominations but I am not that special.
I surrender to things around me because
I love them but also because I am
exhausted. People hold me, suspended.
And I never know is it love or is it
I was afraid to make a movie with a story. I've always hated Star Wars. Yoda unnerved me. I understand why people hate myths. You're an orphan. You go on a journey. You go to a swampy planet. You go to the desert for forty days. You find a muppet who speaks Esperanto. Angry, you are. Fear you have. Or else John the Baptist. You go to kill your dad. Or your dad kills you. Then, Redemption.