weepings

I weep semi colons between the irrelevant
thing I wish to say and the thing that I must say. 

-anna sluder

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Another Poem about My Body In Which My Body is the Poem

I draw my pale thoughts over my head like a blanket and wonder if the discomfiture ever gets softer on the heart see I've learned why the heart beats against the chest wall, it is a war drum on the front lines of my thoughts the harbinger before the marching towards the skin and the vessels and the hair. at first, I wanted my skin to stretch like the tendon of a blue sea to make room for all of the ache, but now I want to be small, to shrink and slip through the eye of an needle and take less space and air than everyone else in the room I dream of being the first atom to split; of being swallowed by a beach pelican, and spat out like tiny fish bones he couldn't devour; there are so many unfinished poems in my chest, I'd like to think my body is an unfinished poem that I am writing, and that one day maybe not every poem will be about my body, but they will be about the mountains and rivers I command to rise in the softest parts of me; I hope you are commandi...
Read more

C(O2)

When were you going to tell me That I am becoming your carbon dioxide When simply in my presence, at the look at my face Your skin thins of color, until eventually you turn as blue as mold on bread As blue as waters an infant drowns in  And you stumble backwards choking on my existence  Suffocating on her lack of existence  When were you ever going to tell me  That I am your carbon dioxide The putrid taste you wring from your tongue  With a swish of water, with a gulp of her The forgotten halos of cold breaths wispy and wet  Drying and floating away into the icy sky  When were you ever going to choose a damn time to tell me  That I will always be your carbon dioxide  The disposable you will always use like razor blades  That are there for the moment to saw the growing filth off  And then soon in the trashcan as shunned as your dirt But baby I can cut too So when were you going to tell me you fo...
Read more

Visiting Grandma

Charlie, you must know Old Grandma Vivienne is a wild old hoot, No more than that, she's a crazy old bat, No, no, no, a sadistic psychedelic maniac So as mother always says: Don't listen to what she says, don't take her candy when offered, and don't smell her flowers, She used to be an apothecary you know. Oh Lydia! I'm sure she's not so bad, just you wait I'm sure Old Grandma Vivienne is nice, No Charlie! Don't listen to what she says, don't take her candy when offered, and don't smell her flowers! She used to be a mortician you know She can't be all of those things, Lydia! But! I promise that I won't listen to what she says, I won't take her candy when offered, or smell her flowers Good Charlie, because she used to be a taxidermist you know. At early noon, Charlie trekked through weeds and fallen logs, Chanting all Lydia had told him: Don't listen to what she says, don't take her candy when offered, and don't ...
Read more