Start with the cut that severs all connection with the earth.
Start slowly so the body can re-learn how to be whole after each amputation.
Start by living elsewhere, in another part of town. You’re better off not knowing.
Once you start giving things up, it becomes difficult to recapture the joy you felt in the presence of an adored partner or possession.
What happens to the worshipper who makes a gift of her worship and learns to do without?
What happens to service when the floor falls away and every salaam is infinite?
Let the child and the ram both go and place the knife on top of the stacked wood.
Too long have you thrilled to its militant conversation with the whetstone.
Let it go out like a phoenix, come back as a black wing.
Stay in the wilderness until someone calls you by a name you’ve never heard.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- How to wake up
- How to eat
- How to walk
- How to listen
- How to wait
- How to breathe
- How to find things
- Manual: How to make videopoems, courtesy of Swoon
- How to lose
- How to dance
- How to procreate
- How to play
- How to listen: the movie
- How to mourn
- How to calculate
- How to grow up
- How to spit
- How to burn
- How to mourn, Belgian-style
- How to make a fist
- How to make a face
- How to sacrifice
- How to take notes
- How to talk
- How to dig
- How to sleep
- How to cast a shadow
- How to teem
- How to fit in
- How to sit
- How to panic
- How to exist
- How to drive
- How to question authority
- How to cook
- How to find things (videopoem)
- How to distress furniture
- How to meditate
- How to be a poet