I’ve been posting micropoems on Instagram, Ello, Patreon and Pinterest this year. I did have a thing set up where they would instantly cross-post here, too, but it broke a lot of the time and just didn’t work the way I wanted.
So I figured I’d gather up the posts from the last 3 months and put them in one post. And then I’ll do that again in a little while when I have more posted.
Side note, all these poems are going into a book called Rewolfing the Soul. I’ll be working on that for April Camp Nanowrimo. More details about that — including a cover and release date — later.
This post is picture-heavy, so I’ve put the images behind a cut. The poems are more or less in chronological order; one or two may be switched around because I didn’t double check the order I posted them before making this post.
my heart is ribbons
once it stayed whole
a kaleidoscope of colour and light
blended till no one know who was anything anymore
by a physical blow made of words
the colours separate
i have to tie them together
hope they play nice
my heart is ribbons
smaller than it was
when it was whole
it beat for the whole world
it contained multitudes
my heart is ribbons
and beating just for me almost unravels it
it contains only my sorrow and rage
my once-whole heart
has been braided into cords
ribbons sliding against each other
silk saturated in blood
i guard it jealously
afraid to let it travel past the walls
of its bonewhite cage
you’re safe here no one can hurt you now
but in my dreams
the trumpet sounds
and in my dreams i know the call
it tells me what i must do
i cup my ribbon heart in my hands,
hold it close to my chest
as if it were a small animal I must set free
from its blunder into my busy city life
I walk on moon-kissed floors to the window
people writhe in a world of grey
stumbling through dark and fog
breathing despair and drinking fear
cracked and scarred, my feet
climb to the ledge
and I balance on bent knees, rocking back and forth
trembling, I am a bird afraid to fall from the nest
half-crouched as if the stars might burn me.
I tip my cupped hands out over the world
and watch my ribbon heart
spill away from me
from between my breasts
a rainbow of colour curls out
wrapping itself into each and every life
ribbons wending themselves through homes and heads
bringing colour to the grey
bringing light to the fog
my heart is ribbons
it touches all lives
it contains multitudes
it binds me in love
to all else who suffer.
So today, I’m answering the second part of the prompt:
Photographers, artists, poets: show us BOOKS.
Here is a photo I took yesterday, of, yes, my own book — it just arrived in the mail a little while ago and I unpacked the box and put the books on the shelf.
And a poem, Water Cycle, which you can find in glasstown.
I am always in a rush in a hurry
to fill up my notebooks with blather –
it is because so many empty ones sit
continually staring me in the face
that I feel guilty
for not feeding them – we’re starving! they cry out
but so is the streambed of my thought
dry for so many years – I sit to write
to enjoy what flows but it’s only a trickle
and so when I can I write
l e n g t h y
so that I take up as much
of the page as possible
and I write on both sides
and sometimes I gush
but my hand can’t keep up with my thoughts
and I’ll get distracted and
—oh, fuck, I did it again,
the stream is dry once more;
I’ve thrown this poem on the floor
and resorted to crappy rhyme
to buy some more time
so that my words can spurt forth—
But it’s grabbing me, this undercurrent
and I fear I can’t turn it to my will
and soon I’ll be dragged
underneath the weight of my creativity
spitting out the saltiness of tears unshed
choking on the wet juicy areas of my mind:
dark, locked up, till I find
explosives and blow the dam
and I write till my hand might fall off
with the pain
but I can’t stop until I do.
So, I heard about something called The Friday Five, and apparently it’s something you do on your blog each week. There seem to be sites that generate questions for it, but I’ve been told you can also just list five things you want to share.
I’ve decided to do it. As this is the blog of a writer and an avid reader, my topic will be Books I Think You Should Pick Up(And Read, Obviously). This will probably remain the topic for a while, but I will always post the topic as the title for the entry.
The City of Ember, by Jeanne DuPrau. YA literature is not just for young people and The City of Ember is highly enjoyable. (Though, if you plan on seeing the film as well I recommend watching the movie first, so it doesn’t spoil your enjoyment of the book.)
Green Grass, Running Water, by Thomas King. I’ve blogged about this great book before, but I think it bears reiterating that it’s well worth your time to pick up this novel and give it a read. It starts out a bit wonky, as King doesn’t adhere to traditional rules in novel writing, but persevere — it’s worth it.
glasstown, by yours truly. This is my poetry book, and I think a lot of people should pick it up (by which I mean buy it) and read it. Just saying.
The Undomestic Goddess, by Sophie Kinsella. This is a good story about a high-powered lawyer who finds out who she really is in the unlikeliest of places — the kitchen of a rich family. It’s not “chick lit”* because it’s not about how important it is to have a boyfriend — it’s about how important it is to be true to yourself. (The fact that there’s a hot guy involved? Bonus!)
The Fifth Sacred Thing, by Starhawk. Another great book I’ve blogged about. Seriously, pick this up and read it. The film has reached its funding goal on Kickstarter, which means that soon pre-production will begin. I’m sending an email to Starhawk to ask for the chance to audition. So, who knows — you might see me on the silver screen in a few years. 😉 Regardless what happens, read this book. You won’t regret it.
*Coming soon: a rant about the sexism inherent in the very existence of the genre of “chick lit” and how it makes my blood boil.