attisisdead - Tumblr blog

[attisisdead]

this one is for anne carson and dionysos

The writer

The written

The throne

The column-crowned corybante

The lover

The livewire

I think I created him?

[attisisdead]

The writer

The written

The throne

The column-crowned corybante

The lover

The livewire

I think I created him?

[attisisdead]

Three.

I had a vision, lover

I heard about a garden

I heard a voice, my most beautiful cup

it looked like a field

I felt a sting, oh throne of my voice

it smelled of dust and the buzz of lightbulbs

what could I do now

in this hum and this dark

what could I do, oh devotion

what could replace that which has been cut away?

[attisisdead]

start at the beginning. that is, the bottom.

i haven’t the words to explain what this is about. it is a story i need to tell. it is, to me, the most important story.

Attis is dead. I want to tell you his story, but I must make something clear. Attis is my lover - the trust that comes with devotion. Attis is consort to Cybele in the old stories. I have spun him. I am his throne and mouthpiece. Everything is about him.

this story gets tangled. it is metaphor, it is allegory, it is true, it is personal. it lives on the back of hundreds of artists, prophets and fighters. i owe it all to them.

[attisisdead]

Two.

She wishes to tell him everything

About how she has already made the first cut

And how her heart burns in tiny chest in hatred of the light

[attisisdead]

[attisisdead]

I first danced with him on a dock by a lake hundreds of miles from my home

the sky lit afire in a way I cannot describe

and the photograph feels burned through.

[attisisdead]

One.

Two bodies in the outer orbit of a sizzling light

One asks the other, what if there’s more?

She’s lying to him. She already knows what’s out there.

She knows it’s hard

She knows it’s full of the sudden violence

Her thoughts fill a silence

He says he would follow her anywhere

She knows it’s a mistake.

She nonetheless could not step forth into what she needs without him

He asks what she worries for

He asks if there’s anything that could hurt more than her absence

She feels that deep stomach pang of the worshipped.