There is an attic box brimming with pink paper shreds. . .
A box in the attic filled with shredded pink paper, empty of things that matter. Shadows of weight have left indents;
mass indented paper into shadows, but now it does not matter: I cannot read - I never knew what it held.
I never read what it held I never held what I read It was red, I was held I was held, I was held once And now I am pink, shredded paper. I am the attic. I am a box.
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learn to keep your own head underwater long after the burning in your eyes and nose dims into a familar hum. you can endure weeks underwater - no sounds, no lights.
emergence is navy, slick, faceless. you have eroded. you dissolve.
yet even the grains of sand on the walls of the abyss cling to thoughts of his last words: be well.
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god am i thankful for the wind in my hair sticking sweat-slick bangs to my forehead on the way to the temples. the guide says each block has a hole in the bottom for a bump on the block below to slide into and i wonder must everything be about sex. and i wonder if i told you i was bleeding if i would be sitting in cafes alone for a week. if i would be thankful for chilled coffee and books i only read to keep my mind off ambiguity.
you can message me with anything: questions, review requests, rants are you a green room knight yet? have you read this week's Squills?
참는것이 지겹다. 어쩔 수 없다는 말도 지겨워. 내가 3년 동안 참으면서 살아왔는데 이제 날개들을 피고 살고 싶다.
I am tired of enduring and I am tired of hearing there is no choice. I have endured my own life for three years but now I want a life - a year or more - of unfurled wings.
you can message me with anything: questions, review requests, rants are you a green room knight yet? have you read this week's Squills?
Hey Hannah, I like that your poetry is so very much YOUR poetry. This is beautiful in the word choice and the flow of the poem, but the poems themselves are all so serious and feel so dark.
I really love how the poem for April 2nd transforms, the one about the pink papers. It feels so natural with how it shifts and changes. You might have a little too much repetition though, just a little? Still, I love your poems in this. That one especially.
The pink papers is my favorite too! :O It's the way that the shifts and changes are in the language itself that feels polished and natural, the way that we get from "what I read" to "it was red" is not about the concept but about the sounds in the language (sorry - that's me taking notes :3)
But in the meaning, in what it wants to say - that's the tension. The words themselves, and the language itself is saying it doesn't matter, but we all know intuitively it matters and I love that tension. :3 Ahhhh <3
I also loved April 3 for keeping me grounded in this kind of slice of life adventure. It's the enjoyment that we get from looking at a photograph, but this one is more a photograph of your mind in a moment and I enjoyed that immensely. I can imagine exploring Korea, the thoughts that come about in your mind at random, and the cold coffee was a lovely end connecting us both as I drink cold coffee reading this (are you still in Korea? :O I assume based on 'temple' but fff I dunno!)
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