Picking Blackberries with a Friend Who Has Been Reading Jacques Lacan

August is dust here. Drought

stuns the road,

but juice gathers in the berries.

We pick them in the hot

slow-motion of midmorning.

Charlie is exclaiming:

for him it is twenty years ago

and raspberries and Vermont.

We have stopped talking

about L'Histoire de la verite,

about subject and object

and the mediation of desire.

Our ears are stoppered

in the bee-hum. And Charlie,

laughing wonderfully,

beard stained purple

by the word juice,

goes to get a bigger pot.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.




Save for later


Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items


Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items


Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items