text
*
text *
text-based visuals,
mainly poetry, prose, typography
this sorry self: a poetry collection
(year one and year two of the Pandemic)
below is year one of my poetry collection this sorry self: (year one and year two of the Pandemic).
this collection was written as a way to help me cope with a lot of extreme life changes, namely:
working retail in america during the coronavirus pandemic,
being rejected from the PhD program i thought i was perfect for,
as well as my blossoming relationship with my current fiance intertwined with
my deeply souring relationship with the now-ex-boyfriend, whom i moved to Wisconsin with.
please enjoy, and you’ll be able to find year two available soon.
year one: 2020
march
the imperative tense | march 17, 2020
just put my clothes off to the side,
he said,
marching out.
i.
i,
sir.
but i didnt
actually
say it.
untitled | march 22, 2020
im terrified to tell anyone how wrong all of this is. i didnt sign up
to wear this uniform to represent
fascist mindsets and unsafe policies. but if i tell them
of course
im an outsider.
im dangerous. meanwhile
im backsliding into my eating disorder, backsliding toward
wanting the oblivion of sleeping pills again
(like i did when i was a teenager)
paralyzed
in constant fear that a customer will snap
and
go berserk
and
kill me with an AR, and paralyzed with the additional fear
of a long and painful demise, just like good old mom had.
no one is taking their safety seriously. no one. everyone
wants to die heroes so at least they
wont have to go to work ha ha ha. real funny.
they dont know what death smells like. they wont be laughing
when theyre shitting their pants and begging for help to die.
and then my boss expects me
to care about . . . stocking milk?
sales
and
products
and
customers?
utterly absurd.
untitled | march 25, 2020
nostalgia for a time when we could collectively
pretend things made sense
even though in reality they made literally no sense
a happy place in our media nostalgia memory
may
untitled | may 7, 2020
are acts of creation just
acts of destruction going the other way?
december
the sublime | december 27, 2020
pink belly
of a warm puppy
april
untitled | april 1, 2020
my hope and sincere wish is that
life, blooming, barking, snarling, howling, rustling
life
persists
in spite of us
and
without us
whats going on | april 4, 2020
i dont fucking know whats going on with this stuff.
this is your chore you didnt finish. i finished your chores for you.
so actually the answer really is
finish your chores and find out whats going on with this stuff.
oh look, your cat threw up | april 5, 2020
just clean it up
i dont need to know the cat threw up.
i dont need to hear how hard that is for you to do one chore.
just
fucking
clean
it
up
you live here too
right?
or now i dont have to take the dog out, feed her,
clean up after her, care for her, play with her?
animal for animal.
oh wait.
you dont even take care of the cat.
july
untitled | july 18, 2020
thought before reaction
action before apathy
the agential nature of action versus the objectifying
nature of reaction (you act versus
being acted upon)
for bran | july 25, 2020
i want to live ten thousand lives with you.
radio tower
light and sound
frequency
sound multiplies
does quotient rhyme with ocean
saddest sound ever made
you will never die alone in all ten thousand lives
i will never run
i will fight
but i will never run.
a sound as deep as the ocean
… fissured
cut through, divided, like a quotient
the sun's silhouette on tinted glass
the only way to view your light
a light like a shotgun blast
april continued
untitled | april 5, 2020
i yearn for shores i have never known
and yet you ponder your old home
and i?
i called you rich and
when you asked why
i replied
you had a home, my darling, once.
untitled | april 5, 2020
all things that decay
make waste
all things that produce waste
decay
untitled | april 13, 2020
kicking up graveyard dirt
from down there to up here
august
untitled | august 12, 2020
sally said
my mother used to say, as she stood behind my
father, watching him, smoking a slim cigarette:
the dumb work; the smart? they supervise,
and then sally-as-her-mom-double laughed.
laughed so loud the mirrors broke and shattered us
all to pieces.