Y’all wanna read some poetry?

Here’s a piece I’m working on. It’s a doodle right now. Feel free to freely feel however you might feel about it.

I’d put a picture of a squirrel here to punctuate how I feel, if I had one. Or the motivation to Google one.


I told myself to stop writing about the human body
it’s everywhere
it’s easy
it’s six thousand innumerable components and not one person
seems to remember what they learned in anatomy class

I have an English degree because
the naming of things
makes them real
makes them containable
eventually exposes the limits of language to feeling

there aren’t words enough for devastation
there aren’t words enough for leveling a city to the ground
or a body on fire
or a heart exploding out of time

I told myself to stop writing about trauma
you haven’t got it right yet
just wait until you know how to say

I’m fine
I’m bleeding
sometimes the wound stops
cauterized by living, 

the fast furious passage of time occasionally stopping up the leak
the wound
and you forget what your body will not let you. 

I’m fine
and everything hurts
and I’ve never been happier. 

I want to write a stream of floating “and”s, not a single “but”, 
because the world is a continuous course
no stopping
sometimes a lazy river
sometimes a riptide

I have an English degree because
I’m scared of forgetting
so I got really good at writing down
I mix metaphors the way I mix memories
they’re all true, just not necessarily mine or in the right
order

I like poems about water, bodies, love
the kind that are generic in their conjuring of cigarette smoke and 
soft soft soft morning light
but I love them
I love them

I blanket my perfectly unacceptable body in language and hope
someone with an ability to edit can sift through
this armor like panning for gold
it isn’t someone else’s job to love me
but a gift I barely know how to receive

I keep my hands open

I try not to think of the names for all the bones and barriers and blood vessels 
housed in my palms. 

I told myself to stop writing about the human body
it’s everywhere
it’s easy
it’s all I am. Worshipfully made to fit, to fuss, to fracture and fuse back together. 

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