My Kurt Cobain book, which is still being edited, emerges from this line from Hole’s “Malibu”: “Oh come on be alive again.”
In one phrase, Courtney Love encapsulates the entirety of grief and elegy.
I am writing about a girl who sings this song, in a manner of speaking, so loudly, that he can hear her.
And when he comes back, he is a monster of beauty and entropy.
Often smiling this way, the smile that doesn’t reach his eyes,
Eyes that “lay down and die.”
All of conspiracy theory is grief.
Including the magic of Bigfoot.
All of elegy is composure.
“Suicide is the opposite of the poem,” Anne Sexton said.
Although in her tatty mink and inherited jewelry, her car blooming jazz and poison,
She made a poem.