One letter. One word. One sigh.
My words are my ushabtis
bearing echoes of the pyramids, the cosmos,
and the screams I was coerced to deny.
Keep, freely, being you. 🫶
Keep, freely, being you. 🫶
There is chaos in order. There are lies that tell the truth. Silence can be loud, monuments can be fragile, the grotesque can radiate, and so on. Even an unfinished thought could end up being endlessly complete. Undoing the self could be a voice disappearing in its own echo.
And yet...
There is chaos in order. There are lies that tell the truth. Silence can be loud, monuments can be fragile, the grotesque can radiate, and so on. Even an unfinished thought could end up being endlessly complete. Undoing the self could be a voice disappearing in its own echo.
And yet...
It's a full-blown nihilistic punch. Amazing! 💥👊
It's a full-blown nihilistic punch. Amazing! 💥👊
Keep being gloriously yourself. The world needs more people like you.
🩵💜💛🖤
Keep being gloriously yourself. The world needs more people like you.
🩵💜💛🖤
I knew asking a poet to write about writing poetry in poetry is a slightly risky thing to do. The good kind of risky, though, like handing a cat a ball of yarn.
No regrets whatsoever, because the end result was glorious chaotic perfection!
I knew asking a poet to write about writing poetry in poetry is a slightly risky thing to do. The good kind of risky, though, like handing a cat a ball of yarn.
No regrets whatsoever, because the end result was glorious chaotic perfection!
How about a meta poem about your preferred process in writing poems.
How about a meta poem about your preferred process in writing poems.