on cirrus and citrus

4/6/25

memory

there is a "me" in "memory"
and so i expect to find myself
as i sort through my recollections.
but half of them return 404 not found and
a third are missing alt text and
a fourth never existed anyways.
(yes, these fractions add up to greater than one,
but i have always striven to be more than i am,
don't you remember?)

there is a "re" in "remember"
and so i expect to member again.
but i've lost the password to this society and
i don't think i can come back once i've alt+tabbed away and
some tabs are beyond the power of ctrl+shift+t to get back.
(i repeat keystrokes until my fingers memorize them.
too bad they don't share this knowledge of permanence with me.
or is it because they know that they, too, will forget?)

there is a "for" in forget
and so i wonder who i am forgetting for.
you, myself, the thief of my memories?
ah. i remember now.
how could i have forgotten
that computer memory is often volatile?
the contents are retained so long as power is connected.
and i have always been disconnected
from the electric world around me.
(i am that one person reading a physical book as others scroll on screens.
i am that one person using light mode instead of dark because i code outside.
i am that one person who likes to think of herself as unique but, in reality,
is just as addicted to technology as the rest.)

i think this forgetfulness is intentional.

4/7/25

happily ever after

once upon a time, there was a girl, there was a boy, they were not in love, and they never would be. this is how i wish more stories would go.
in a galaxy far, far away, and also rather closer to home, they would go on adventures. and no one assumed they were a couple, or siblings, or anything other than what they were.
it was a dark and stormy night, and one was sad, and the other was there. and it meant nothing other than what it did.
the clock struck midnight, they each found their respective partners, and they felt complete. there were no love triangles, no manufactured drama, no angsty breakup songs. because healthy relationships do exist, no matter what the movies show.
they and their partners rode off into the sunset, though none of them were perfect. the sun blinded them sometimes, and they stumbled, but they helped each other up and carried on.
and they all lived happily ever after.

4/8/25

sometimes

sometimes they wish they could wander on the wind.
some days they take a deep breath and wonder who else has breathed in those same molecules of oxygen at some other point in history.
some nights they walk through their dreams and whisper their hopes and fears to the figures in the background.
somewhere there is someone like this.

funny how i wouldn't know if they're the person sitting right next to me in class.
funny how we keep all our inner worlds locked away to the average stranger.
sometimes i'm tempted to swing a wrecking ball at the first, second, third, and fourth walls.

4/9/25

this is not a title drop

there is something so gorgeous about a day where you can sip a drink of citrus while staring up at the cirrus clouds streaking across the celeste blue sky is this what they call serenity \
and it might just be enough to convince me not to become a ghost in the machine despite all the travails of existing in a flawed mortal body \
if only we could have more days like this with the wind on our faces and the scent of orange blossoms on the wind and light glazed on the orange blossoms like on a lightly glazed doughnut \
to tell you the truth or something close to it or at least not at odds with it i think i should be happier than i am looking at the facts of my life but i forget until the fresh air reminds me \
to tell you another truth these moments of calm did not really happen except for in my mind but certain seeds of them are true enough \
and isnt it the prerogative of a poet to take creative liberties sometimes.

4/10/25

thinking on the box







transcription:

Spoiler

they say to think outside of the box but
sometimes the familiar is all i can take and i imagine these walls are all that are
holding me together and if i stepped outside i would disintegrate
like a book finally succumbing to the patient destructiveness
of time, who always has the last laugh no matter how bright you burn.
but we take a candle's flame to our pages anyways and blaze

4/11/25

summer scorches me to the bone

the earth tilts their face to the sun
as if basking in the glow of their idol,
yet for them to gather the courage to approach
would mean extinction for us fragile life forms.
as it is, i already hate how the earth worships the sun.

4/12/25

mantle

what if we dismantled the earth:
pulled it apart and extracted the mantle,
rock burning through our mantle, through our clothes and the rest of us
as we assume the mantle of earth-repair-technician.

4/13/25

if i began to drown in the sky, you'd be the one pulling me back to earth

because sometimes you run into someone at just the right time
and it's like the clouds aligning to spell out your name
some perfect coincidence that feels planned
like a painting of light brush strokes

I love non-linear poetry / poetry that can't be read on a flat page, and so that box poem is making me very very very happy. Love the idea, love the execution. Ah! Lovely! And creative!

Also really enjoyed your word-plays in 4/6 - that poem seemed especially "you" in the voice, with the introspection and word-playfulness and computer references too.

Nice work so far this month mint! Enjoying your poetry and your poetic voice!

@alliyah thank you!! i feel like it could've been better with more thought, but i also very much enjoyed the concept of a poem in 3d xD and omg you're so right about the 4/6 one-- i had more time and energy then, so it's closer to my ideal poetic voice =P

4/14/25

lightbulbs that need changing

I've written about this before, a few years back,
and I think my conclusion was that I was not
burnt out. Is that still true?
There's always so much to learn and do and not enough time,
but isn't that just a fact of life for everyone?
And I do try to be present in the moment sometimes,
and sometimes I succeed, and really I've gotten used to
having stress like a heavy cat purring on my lap.
(The cat wanders off sometimes. I hardly notice when it returns.)
I find it frustrating, not being able to run diagnostics on myself.
If I could put a number to my stress level and monitor it over time,
maybe then I could identify trends and fixes.
As far as I can tell, I still have that drive to learn that keeps me going. But.
Did I start writing poems in lowercase as an intentional stylistic change,
or simply because I lost the motivation to capitalize my 'I's?
(Don't worry. I think it only takes one of me to change a lightbulb.)

4/15/25

on research and regrets

and perhaps this is what Laius felt
when the oracle told him he was
destined to be killed by his son.

i think i was too greedy for knowledge
and my conscience kicked in too late.