Have two, since pesach meant I wasn't home yesterday.
Spoiler! :
#20 the difference between eight o’clock on a warm summer night and a blustery april is the voices on the wind (and how aggressively they demand their due)
#21 there is a despondency in going through old (poetry) (journals) and wondering if growth is the same thing as grim acceptance.
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
Awesome job so far, mesh! I think #16 is my personal favorite -- it's a big oof, with a bunch of emotional charge packed into such a small amount of space. I also really like your use of parentheticals across so many of the poems. It gives a nice continuity while at the same time sort of? breaking the flow? as you give asides. This is the classic example of me not having the correct terminology to compliment poetry that I just talked about in the jam lol but I quite enjoyed reading through your thread! You're doing absolutely fantastic -- keep up the good work! ^-^
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
#23 i’ve lost something in “embracing new opportunities” that you can’t quite hold in your fingers, and i wonder what happens now to language acquisition when not confronted with it daily and if i’ll lose the grammar i gained like i lost vocabulary to a mash of musical terms and insults half-remembered from great-grandparents before i could walk - and what happens when we split ourselves into too many pieces and we bathe in glue to hold together until all we are made of is someone else.
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
Here's two, to make up for not being home yesterday to post at all.
Spoiler! :
#25 some days i don’t know if it’s 2022 or 2009, because i find myself caught in the same web of research i’ve never quite let go of (and doing a deep dive into ancestry research never quite ends, because there’s always something new that’s been transcribed) but feels so far from the grave-side digging my great grandmother did (for her husband’s family - her line fizzles out with her supposed grandmother) a century before -
and i’ve still never gotten to the bottom of the mystery my aunt left me 10 years ago about a locket and her birth and the article she swears was published detailing a family mystery and being the first girl born in over 100 years - but damned if she could tell me which side of the family (and sneaking my family heirlooms, convinced her own children would simply throw it all away, because in her mind they don’t care about her things, but rather what they will be left to clean up)
#26 sometimes i wonder if my ancestors can see me
i wonder what my great-grandparents would say if they could see me now
sometimes i wonder if all those who came before can watch us
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
#27 ash falls from the sky like hell-sent snow to coat everything (don't wash it off with water, or you'll never get rid of the mark) in fireseason that spans three quarters of the year (don't listen to what they tell you - it's always been this way, there's just more people in the way of destruction) and we go from fire watch to storm watch on a dime and only pray the change doesn't bring with it wind.
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
#28 sometimes i dream - of the small things i need and the smaller ones i want but always stay just out of reach (unless transplanted somewhere - anywhere - that isn’t here because elsewhere is the only place where i could make dreams tangible) and i hold on to postcards of couldbes and maybes and almosts i can almost taste but never quite manage to hold as they slip through fingers that know no matter how hard or soft you hold it to your chest you can never quite grasp.
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
#30 we woke up this morning to sun fading to fog, rolling in almost thick enough to bathe in (and even after an hour’s time the top of our heads were wet) yet by noon it was warm and dry - because california is nothing if not a study in contrasts of coastal wind and desert heat that meet to create chaos.
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
#32 sometimes i miss the post-apocalyptic hell that the early 2010s predicted (it almost felt hopeful in the face of certainty - when my generation still could pretend there was a chance for us, instead of the beaten down certainty that no matter what we do we are the villains of everyone else's story)
[this one is rough, but i like where i'm going with it]
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
He began to wonder why he had felt uneasy at all. It was like a man wondering in broad daylight why a dream had appeared so terrible to him at night. — Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart
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