3
" Song I try to make the step-down call of the chickadee, but do it too insistently, over and over so it loses sense, the air going equally out and back, not slower in the opening, then quickening as the tight hinge retracts, but absolutely evenly, too even, the way one breathes and regulates breath for a doctor, to present the body’s equanimity. There’s a bird in a tree with a hinge in its throat, a door opening to let the sweet air pass from a high, thin place down a notch. There’s phlox out there, opening between one black and another black, hanging branch of an apple tree—the very tree that holds the bird that bends the air so parenthetically around itself, and its song around anything listening. "
― Lia Purpura , On Looking: Essays
9
" To sew the blue-burnt edges of a gunshot wound together should require only concentration, training, deftness, ease with systems awry and how to stabilize, but with good tools, sharp blades, bright lights, I’m guessing a material’s qualities become more. Professionals are adept at covering it up, but I’m pretty sure pleasure insists. "
― Lia Purpura , It Shouldn't Have Been Beautiful (Poets, Penguin)