Josephine Clare

day like spring in thick of winter. turn down the thermostat preserve energy the air is too balmy for a crisis today perfect for making love all day long. but the problem remains "how can housework be made into a creative activity?" objects that are cherished are born of an intimate light they attain to a higher degree of reality than indifferent objects. daily at eight the housewife awakens furniture that was asleep. is there a single woman or man who does not respond to the word wardrobe? so white your sheet white as the moon on the wintry meadow. imagine every morning every object in the house would issue from our hands. things become crystallisations of our weakness but a bit more polishing and we have something quite different. sit in corners & see how old the world has grown how worn. common sense lives on the ground floor same level as everybody passers-by. you want to write? either go down into the basement or upstairs.

If memory were only in the head (do not sleep more than once with any one the body is a stupid red neck you try to reason bang! comes the fist down on the table the red neck sees red:

get me that body now! the body is a crabby baby that wants wants with a vengeance that body the baby thinks that body is the bottle the baby goes on a fast the baby says - i die on you you'll be sorry the body sulks you put a thousand miles between you & that body the body keeps on begging for that body you give the body a body you give it some fine body the body is cunning it wants not this body it repulses it but wants that body that body from back there the body has tantrums almost suffocates gasps It's embarrassing