tracing the firmament of a memory

napo twenty four: melancholia induced by my lack of self
napoweek twenty four: phantasmic glory: the last summer tryst

goals
[🌃] write one-hundred-eighty poems
[🌃] have fun
[🌃] participate in april madness
[🌃] write thirty or more comments on other threads


title # (total) 4/datewritten/25

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table of contents to go here

180?!! Whoa!! I didn't even know there was a record until just now, your NaPo title looks awesome, I can't wait!!

First: the graphic is AMAZING I love this already, second: 180??? That's a lot, can't wait to see them all!

180 poems???? Omg goodluck! Cant wait to read your poetry!!

subterfuge #1 4/01/25

sometimes when i can't
sleep (restless) i bite the
carotene back until i get
blood from the tissue
as it severs itself into my
incisor and tell myself
it will all be okay in the end.

that the sun will never
be eclipsed by the moon--
in which i (the heart) never
will never find reasoning
in us (the soul).

i tell myself that it
will all be okay
in the end.

that the tide,
inconsistent
to ourselves will
diminish and
that it will face me
to be that i
have never loved you.

i tell
myself
that everything
will be okay
in the end.

that the
plains
beautiful
and green
(you) will
never
cling on to
invasive weeds
(her)

i tell
myself
everything
will
be okay
in the
end.

everything
will
be
okay.

i call the air by my own name #2 4/01/25

someday i will reconvince the heavens; clouds are mine, even without the permanance of worldly posessions.

it's so hard to love myself #3 4/01/25

presumably, i think that everyone hates me just a little bit. i have to be someone's least favorite, so maybe i am everyone's least favorite. i am brash, brutal, devoid of kindness. i speak without thinking and i think without speaking. i lie, but i'm honest.

what does that even mean for me?

orion #4 4/01/25

the dark wash of the night flickers
across my ceiling like a dormant
constellation that has yet to be charted.
i tell myself the story of the stars as i
rebirth myself into grief and i accept the truth as the pain.

the rules of non-progressing #5 4/01/25

there is no change,
i do not believe that
progress is linear and
i-- (propositionally)
create my own narrative,

in which (i)
dis(appearing)ly
become myself again,
and we (you) continue
death-living.

you do not exist. (only
momentarily i blur the
life(from death.() spring
rewrites the husks of
insects.


spring interlude (springterlude) #6 4/01/25

you retch up the remains of march,
clovers + melted snow, planting the putrid
substance under the permafrost to be grown
by the rainshowers.

detriment #7 4/02/25

one day it will all die #8 4/02/2025
i.
the faded yellow glow of the
basement dust flickers alive and
i say-- "these all look like
some damn strange fireflies"
and you say-- "stop pretending."

i look up to see another self behind
me on the stairs as he pushes me down
and watches my limbs splay on
the concrete.

ii.
i retrace the linen carpets
to their stains and i ponder
what it means to love someone.

i reach for the cavity in the
middle of my chest and feel
around for the heart
among the ribs.

i tear it out viciously and
take a bite out of it like
the forbidden fruit.

inner mingling #9 4/03/25

maybe it can all go away if i believe it to become untrue;
the life that paints the hand is the death that wilts the soul.

haiku 001 #10 4/03/25

this life has been all
too good for me, i (stagnant)
begin denoument.

rewriting the narrative #11 4/03/25

a chicken, a drunkard, and a toddler
walk into a memory (bar) and resynthesize
themselves.

a chicken me, a drunkard you, a toddler our past,
walk into a bar boundless world and resynthesize re-emphasize
themselves the firmament.

me a fool, you a hero, our past the tower,
walk read into a boundless world our lives and re-emphasizes
the firmament sunlight.

a fool, a hero, the tower,
read into perpetually about our lives and re-emphasizes rewrites
the sunlight story.

a fool, a hero, the tower,
read perpetually about our lives and rewrites
the story.

nuance #12 4/03/25

an orange half cut will never be whole again
(i, a poet, scramble to find the hidden meaning.
still-- i find no substance. people say they understand
nuance and i still find things like this.
of course half-cut oranges can never be whole
again. neither can half-dead humans be alive again.)

sunrose, moonset #13 4/03/25

i fade myself into salmon
skies and float alongside
the cotton-candy clouds as
they drift across the
gradient-laiden background
receding into deep purple as
i watch the silver sun rise into
fruition as i pluck a selene white
bead out of the grace of the nebula.

springterlude ii #14 4/03/25
spring is here and still i feel the haunt of winter in my throat.

God #15 4/03/25

people say that God comes to
them in dreams, that He tells them
the whispers of divinity but [i],
non believeing in God, nod, but
never let the words fully permeate
my skull.

until #16 4/03/25

until
i die i will become the world
nothing matters anymore and
that happens, everything will fall away from me
there's nothing to hold onto--
there's nothing left except me.

regret #17 4/03/25

i bite my cheek as i paralyze my fears into one consolidation
and tell myself that everthing will be okay
even when it wont be. and then i let myself
become consumed by my own thoughts until
i am a creature of inhibitons, letting the
fury and the insanity of myself shine.

the night sky is unfathomably warm #18 4/03/25

i sweat, you swelter,
pulling eachother to
the other, grabbing head?
shoulder? hand?

in the dark, everything--
all of you and all of me,
look impartial and i
cannot discern what is
your face and what is my body.

there are just some things you cannot stop #19 4/04/25

i repossess myself into something
that can stand the push\pull of what
is now becoming a jagged
misnomer of what we used to be.

you (gravitationally)-- try and
cling to the past. i said that
"change is my least favorite
concept-- but it is the thing i
accept the most." and you--
unaccepting of the truth,
delude yourself with me.

i tell you that it will all go
away some day, the cities,
me, the memory.

you just shake your head,
stubborn-- and i let it happen.

someday, i hope # 20 4/05/25

one day i hope to
metamorphasize
and change shape,

shedding this mortal
husk to become something
that i have yearned
to become (unbecoming
of me-- to want)

one day i will feel
my skin seperate
from its tissue
and let my wings
unfurl from
the muscle +
fat.

spirtually adverse #21 4/06/25

when i go to the monestary +
the zendo i say "wow.
i can't. i can't remember the last time
i was here." and i look
at the buddha and bow anyway.

today i went and celebrated buddha's
birthday and during the speech, the
woman said "all living beings are flowers.
we are all blooming in the universe. even the
bad people."

and i don't know what to do with this new
conscious awakening this opens for me.

because i've never been too invested.
i say "i'm buddhist, but i don't practice."

something about this experience makes
my bitterness, my rot, my stubborness
look unkempt.