cracking the bud and  //  creeping out into light
into light it creeps  and  \\  blossoms into an idea
into idea into light into  \\   body it blossoms
from the composted  //  shit beneath
nothing a little water  \\  from
your mouth to mine  won’t //  encourage

Written in response to this Anais Nin quote posted by MINDLOVEMISERY as a prompt:
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”


Untitled (so far)

When we are closed off from the disaster,
when the doors are shut against pilferage and walkouts,
when smoke can get in without much resistance,
the window is the only friend left,
and gravity doesn’t seem as important as life as breath as cool evening air.

What is the cost of gravity.
What is the cost,
the cost.
Wearing a tie is the price we pay for lesser evil.
Or greater.
Or not at all.
Or rational people are not evil.
It is all in the name of living.
It is all in the name of dead.

It’s not a choice, it’s a betrayal, it’s a.
You have no right.
Or wrong.
Or whether it is to behold or to hear or to feel,
we are one nation under an erroneous assumption.
Who is to blame?
Who is to hold accountable?
I am.

Gulag psyche — found poem

“Observers have said that the unrepentant activist was deliberately sent to Mordovia — notorious for its network of Soviet-era Gulag prison camps — in a bid to break her will.”*

You confined me to the reality of
Your Gulag-style psyche
In a bid to break my will
And I am here