Light rain; poplars by

the rivulet; two crows looking


As if they were waiting for

a third one

In shallow water, standing on gravel

the woman turns her head to the wanderer

the shirt slips from her hand and lightly


A droplet beneath her eye.

No – a tear.

The uniform passing of days
dripping like grey honey from languid clouds
makes my sleep uneasy
it amazes me every morning
not to wake up as a giant bug
my day on trellises
forms better fruit

This is based on Ruth Stone: „Cheap“

I wish I could scream
into someone else’s rain
into someone else’s wave

of courage and joy
I wish I could tear
down the walls that

seperate me from
someone else
but I’m not this

kind of person not a
kind person when it comes
to regarding myself I’m

not someone else
screaming into my
rain into my

wave of courage and
joy or tearing down that
wall I built

This poem’s prompt was „Identities“, based on „My Own Private Patriarchy“ by Jennifer Chang

Today I place before me
the raspberries, which need to be cut
and the hazel trees
the kids need a breakfast
no, no chocolate before lunch
there’s dandelion between the lavender bushes
the red kites are flying in packs
and are chased by crows, again
all these I place between myself
and another white night

What if

Jupiter had to have permission
to take Europa on their trip?
Europa had to pay taxes
for exporting livestock?
Phaeton was caught speeding
and without a driver’s license?
Bacchus had been fined
for introducing adult drinks?
(well, kind of he did) Apollon had been made responsible
for bringing the plague to the Greek army?

Would our world be so different?
Or if, yesterday,
I had eaten that pie?

Daily Lament

You were as sweet
as I could have imagined
from the day before
your complexion
just what I had needed
my tongue was satisfied
with your taste
my nose
with your smell
so intimately familiar
you skin melted
as my mouth touched
and my tongue your skin tomorrow
another piece
will be appropriate
oh, the smell and the taste tomorrow
another piece of chocolate will be
all mine

The Seeker

A great poem.

Constance Bourg

the_seekerI have been working on a zine. This will be my first zine, and I hope to have it ready by the end of the month. I plan on selling it on Etsy.

This writing is an excerpt of the opening piece. The whole zine ties together under the theme of ’searching‘, searching for yourself, for connection, for your roots. It is an exploration of how inherited trauma can create a profound sense of disconnection, and it is some of the most personal writing I have ever done.

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