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Everything Starts with a Letter Everything starts with a letter, even in dreams and in the movies . . . Take J. Juliana, on a summer afternoon, in a white silk blouse, and a pale blue-flowered skirt, —her shoes? blue? but high and narrow heels, because she asks Sam to carry the plate of Triscuits into the garden, because she can’t manage the brick path in her heels. “Oh could you? I can’t manage the path in these heels.” J is the letter my name begins with, O is the letter for the moon, and my rage shines in my throat like the moon! Her phoniness, O my double, your and my phoniness . . . Now what shall we do? For this is how women begin to shoot, we begin with our own feet, men empty their hearts, oh the false self will do much worse than that, to get away . . . About Love 1 No when you went to her (oh when she told me so) then I turned to her her her her: emptiness: black hollows falling over alone under the white running water 2 “Light as milk in a child’s cup, I will hold you, at my lips 176 door in the mountain ...

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