Captions for a Picture Magazine: A Joan Didion Persona Poem
-You are quite possibly impatient with me by now; I amtalking, you want to say, about a "morality" so primitivethat it scarcely deserves the name, a code that has as its point only survival, not the attainment of the ideal good.Exactly.-Joan Didion, "On Morality"
I.You don't know. You weren't there.And furthermore, on this matter pardon my blitz of fragmentationand splices.There was a time,namely in the sixties, althoughthe details escape me,when the world found somethingin dwelling in Sacramento.(I won't call it joy, or living)for none of us are ever really aliveuntil Sacramentois in the rearview, and we'reSan Fernando Valley-bound.Hemingway once saidsomething about loose wordslosing their edge,and despite my brokennarrative, I could not agreemore.IronicallyI read that quotefrom a quarter-zineone evening whenthe broken world lostits zeal,and yesterdayI recall the world set ablazeand needed to removemyself from this