Thursday, September 8, 2016

Day 5: Anthem

Sigh.  I suck at titles.  Also, I seriously had to get through like 8 different throw away starts to get to this poem (which initially started with the line "I can't write this shit").

Writing tip 1: When you can't think of what to write, write what you can't write.  Then write.

Day 5 was a struggle.  But it's done. 


Being a poet means
living edgelessly on the verge, always
feeling like you're
falling through layers of life and line-breaks and
vulnerability and there are
so many poems I am too scared to write. 
There are words I
swallow like songs my mother sung me that will
kill me one day or
explode in poetic battle of rainstorm --
there are so many ways of fighting against a poem.
Pushing away the big words that invite fear and
working only with the smaller ones that will
coat the lining of your stomach -
this shit is real;
living is no joke and witnessing this through
poeming is
some sort of Fucked Up most days, but
I will write instead that
my body is an anthem I will learn to stand up for, so
I sweat from the outside in.
Let it pool in the cells between my ribcage to
make saltwater baths for the emotions to float on like the
Dead Sea, but
everything in me is the opposite --
like my ribcage is really a rib-liberation, and
saltwater makes everything sink;
like the Dead Sea is really alive and the
empty spaces are overflowing and
my heart makes breaking fall together --
there are so many ways of fighting against a poem:
so many ways of forgetting
what it feels like
to be alive.

No comments:

Post a Comment