Cartographies

Ghosts

91 Ghosts All day the day lilies stall in the shade; at dusk, the moon prowls the dark provinces. We have reached the in-between hour— our bodies flow through tight crevices; our slender feet, clever in their lightness, step through even granite dungeons, floating us back into the empty world. We join hands, knowing no other solace than breath, no comfort other than flight. Our mission is simply to fully remember all the catechisms of our days and nights, and to relive our errors, one by one. Clouds in the desert, winds in the forest: we starve, we howl our green lamentations. What inhabits us is hidden loss, a longing we cannot speak nor name—a sorrow so rich and fine it makes our skin translucent. Write our echoing names in the blank pages of your hearts, press them gently there, like the dried petals of passion flowers. We hold you accountable for change. -for my beloved friends, and AIDS victims,Alex Londres, Jim Ragland, and Geoff Bowers, in memoriam ...