poetics

some truisms from six years of making playlists for every month

huh.
it’s been ordinarily maddening, that
i can’t get this boy out of my head.
but i think i’m okay.
i guess i’m fresh, funky, and
functional, when these late nights
get crazy, and those even later nights
get fresh.

you know, if i could time travel
i’d go sightseeing with boys
like you, who listen to me.
where, i’m giving in, breathing out.
where, i could tell myself i’m doing better now.
where you could hold me, yes,
hold me!

hm, so much music in October.
oh, dear god, I listen to too much music
well, i have a lot of favorite songs
because i’ve been listening to
music my whole life.

besides that, here are
some things i’m learning:
the sewing machine,
the guitar, and ho,
fix my sleep sched,
because to recover myself,
demands a dare
to search for my ghost,
so bring in the august poetry,
look into the cartography,
the parts of a whole,
what’s missing, what’s missed,
and everything will be okay.

yes, music is finally hitting again.
though i think
i’m getting ahead of myself here:
when shame is the opposite of art,
when it’s all too late,
when days go by,
you find a way to change.

you find that humor beats self loathing.
because yes, there are mysteries
for a reason, but
existence is still as innocent
as falling in love with some guy,
when you were like 15.

The Hanged Man

“How are you?” Well,

I blame myself that I need someone

to ask me that question before I realize I’m

exhausted. I’ve been reading tarot recently,

to teach myself something. But the longer

I shuffle the cards the less familiar I become

with my own hands. Fate is small and enormous—

It makes me claustrophobic. It’s not conducive

To the confusion and the pain.

And I’m just looking for the exit. But everything,

all the rooms and the edges, they all look the same

to me these days, especially now that

I can stop the moment someone tells me to stop.

There, I’m done. I’ll take all the small steps.

I’ll reply to this email. I’ll drink more water.

I’ll workout in the mornings. I’ll seek a support system.

I’ll take my medicine to the point that I’ll ask myself

why I’m me, so it wouldn’t be lying when I say I’m fine.

I can’t answer that kind of question anyway. Not

without my whole life flashing before my eyes, not without

feeling sick. Because it shocks me. I don’t know what to do

when you ask, when you choose your words with care,

when all the cards fall unto the floor, and you’re right in

front of me. Suddenly there are no lessons to learn, suddenly

I exist, like a punch to the gut. I keep telling myself

things could get just get worse, so I have no choice

but to endure it, but how do I even begin

to handle you looking into me?

Reality in Love

looking at me, looking at you

we see in each other’s faces

every forgettable detail. it is

not so refreshing at all, my

mole above the lip, nor your

mundane lashes, when you

cannot decide on a wish. there

is nothing else, only the

awareness that you notice me

incompletely. that you look

me in the eyes, like you cannot

save me. still, you stay, enough

to mirror our shivering. no one

is here to see us, only one quiet

animal to quiet animal, heads

never leaving the place of

the other’s neck.

July 1, 2025

After Summer Rain

While I wait

for the rain to stop,

insight escapes me

because my past started

to extend into a bigger

picture. Just recently,

for forever. Was it real,

the tremble, or was it alive,

the swallowtail?

I am waiting for it to stop,

neither resting nor dead,

just enough for it to be safe.

Why did joy only exist in

a memory?

A swan weeping

in its own private

moments. Every friend

bearing infinite shame.

A mother’s mother is

looking for her.

Yes,

real prayers do not fail,

but sometimes we are not

ready to return to ourselves.

But I forget the details, like

an angel’s name in a dream,

the dog chasing the frog,

and the sister’s soaked

shoes.

While I wait

for the rain to stop,

I somehow choose

impatience. I must bring to

you your blue baby’s breath

flowers. Which just means

I nearly forgot

you were glad to see me.

June 30, 2025

doll 2

you are afraid

to bring me home

because i am

a haunted thing.

so you only

look, tempted

to kill me because

it would not hurt

if you told yourself

that’s what i wanted.

your addiction to the

illusion that i am

the monster

is ironic.

you are more me

than i am you. you

are the one that is

still begging

to be alive.

doll 1

these days the nearer

i am to the screen

the stronger the sound

of the rain. too much

time spent staring out

into the window.

that is my worth

to a faceless world—

lightning flashes

before my eyes.

rain stops. thunder

stops. there is an angel

whose mission is to

shatter me.

that is the will

of reality. i begin bleeding

to the mirror.

still, the thing

that stays is the smile

curving into

the truth: i am beautiful

but only when i am empty.

come, i can be your

empty girl. stuff me full

of your shame.