Looking through my notebook in search of the (multiple) bodily ramblings, I found this note I had forgotten about. Relevant re: burning, sacrifice, identity,
"As fodder for..." I can't write anymore because I can't bring myself to burn anything.
I'm holding all objects and materials and knowledge close and whole.
What should be burned and how? Or when does the effigy leave the vile thing intact?
A sacrifice to it rather than a sacrifice of it.
(as in VP)
the 'I' is key?
whiteness as fodder for poetry?
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