It’s hard to believe it’s been almost 40 years since the wonderful kids of Lord of the Flies stole our hearts, shook us to our core and launched us into a daunting existential crisis that forced us to reevaluate good and evil.
He says: I want it to smell / like the real thing. // The real thing / is a landscape // of work and death–– / the names of our ancestors // slack in our mouths, / just the art of loving // your family line enough / to reproduce it.
I want to know what happens when there is no ending, when Mr. Right remains elusive.
What I want most is to be rendered invisible, but my hair has never been so loud.
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