OH okay i found her essay on her work with/about landfill-as-archive, cool, i kind of understand what’s happening now
Tag: poetry
here’s my concept: find a BUNCH of some kind of in-high-quantities-mildly-concerning container or wrapper online, like maybe 300 empty pocky boxes or 200 2 liter bottles of a regional pop, & use that and none of your actual trash, or in addition to like 1 other item. or something non-edible that creates the same air of worrying mystery, like 4 cans of axe
veronica you’re a genius all the time
hahaha can u believe im doing a thing for a poetry class that involves a “trash diary”, i just made fucking plastic bag yarn like i’m a first year saic student trying to make a statement about littering and feminist fiber art or something
what resembles the grave but isn’t
Always falling into a hole, then saying “ok, this is not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of the hole which is not the grave, falling into a hole again, saying “ok, this is also not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of that hole, falling into another one; sometimes falling into a hole within a hole, or many holes within holes, getting out of them one after the other, then falling again, saying “this is not your grave, get out of the hole”; sometimes being pushed, saying “you can not push me into this hole, it is not my grave,” and getting out defiantly, then falling into a hole again without any pushing; sometimes falling into a set of holes whose structures are predictable, ideological, and long dug, often falling into this set of structural and impersonal holes; sometimes falling into holes with other people, with other people, saying “this is not our mass grave, get out of this hole,” all together getting out of the hole together, hands and legs and arms and human ladders of each other to get out of the hole that is not the mass grave but that will only be gotten out of together; sometimes the willful-falling into a hole which is not the grave because it is easier than not falling into a hole really, but then once in it, realizing it is not the grave, getting out of the hole eventually; sometimes falling into a hole and languishing there for days, weeks, months, years, because while not the grave very difficult, still, to climb out of and you know after this hole there’s just another and another; sometimes surveying the landscape of holes and wishing for a high quality final hole; sometimes thinking of who has fallen into holes which are not graves but might be better if they were; sometimes too ardently contemplating the final hole while trying to avoid the provisional ones; sometimes dutifully falling and getting out, with perfect fortitude, saying “look at the skill and spirit with which I rise from that which resembles the grave but isn’t!“
Several Altitudes of Not Talking
You are part of other people but not
like them. You live in a little wooden box
and wake up with your face
in your palm and some sunlight.
Which is a sign of resignation but not
for you. Which is part of what I meant
by trying to effect change
in myself and also talking. By describing
to you that before a city can become
spectacular its buildings must put on
an iron gown. And then some workers
climb all around it. And it is like having
no teeth because you are waiting
for better teeth. I tell you I am very attached
to my old teeth. In a game called all of this
is hypothetical I did not once slide
my teeth across the table. I do not
even remember what you offered
as the hypothetical exchange for a life
where I only drink soup. There were
some girls on their bikes
and wind. There were some people
reuniting after many years apart or just
a day. You were not like everyone else
making demands with wild
gesticulations. I thought about maybe
trying to sharpen my knowledge
of jokes. I thought about really
needing a hug. A very important car
with sirens rumbled by and sounded
exactly right.Wendy Xu
from You Are Not Dead, 2013
tphd:
MY FAVORITE PERIOD IN EARTH’S HISTORY
My favorite period in Earth’s history
is every moment you’ve ever smiled at me haha
god, i’m only kidding
my favorite period in Earth’s history is the first time it rained
(i hate all the rest of the periods)
the first time it rained on planet earth with actual, regular water
i mean
i hate the times it rained irregular things from the sky (ex. lava) i only love the regular rain
the first time it did the regular rain, it lasted for 13 years and everyone alive learned to love it
also it rained not in one place or two places
but everywhere at once
just clean, new water
all over
which was nice
my favorite period in Earth’s history began the exact moment i was born and ends the precise
moment when my body is fed to dogs
haha, i’m only kidding again dogs would never eat me
they respect me too much
my favorite period in Earth’s history began
a long time ago and lasted several hundred years
which was a short while
all considered
during this period there was
relative calm no mountains had come
from inside the earth to visit forever
everything was plains and fields
and flowers and the newest, freshest scents
on the wind
like memories no one had had yet
but we were all excited to try
and all the animals that exist now, existed then
but were small
small enough to hold inside my mouth
only two inches big
maybe three, MAX
a tiny horse might be three inches big
which was huge
at the time
and explains how they got
so full of themselves
but who can blame them
really
just picture it in your head:
a troop of tiny horses, cascading across the plains
it’s fantastic
and all the bugs were even tinier
and smiling even tinier bugsmiles
which is great
if you ask me
and all the humans got eaten all the time
or got lost in the grass
or trampled
which i’m also comfortable with
In the Beginning God Said Light
and there was light.
Now God says, Give them a little theatrical lightingand they’re happy,
and we are. So many of usdressing each morning, testing
endless combinations, becoming in our mirrorsmore ourselves, imagining,
in an entrance, the ecstaticweight of human eyes.
Now that the sun is sheeringtoward us, what is left
but to let it close infor our close-up? Let us really feel
how good it feelsto be still in it, making
every kind of self that can belooked at. God, did you make us
to be your bright accomplices?God, here are our shining spines.
Let there be no more dreams of beingmore than a beginning.
Let it bethat to be is to be
backlit, and then to be only that light.—Mary Szybist
tphd:
IS IT A CRIME TO HOLLOW OUT THE MOON AND LIVE IN IT
YES
IS IT A CRIME TO HOLLOW OUT THE MOON AND LIVE IN IT WITH ALL THE GOLD I’VE STOLEN FROM EARTH
YES
IS IT A CRIME TO HOLLOW OUT THE MOON AND LIVE IN IT WITH ALL THE GOLD I’VE STOLEN FROM EARTH AND ALSO SHOOT MISSILES BACK AT THE PLANET AT RANDOM, CAPRICIOUS INTERVALS
YES
IS IT A CRIME TO INVENT A BICYCLE AS BIG AS THE SUN
YES
IS IT A CRIME TO SEND MY DOG TO COLLEGE
NO
IS IT A CRIME TO EMOTIONALLY PRESSURE MY DOG INTO RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT
YES
IS IT A CRIME TO EMOTIONALLY PRESSURE MY DOG (AFTER HE WINS THE ELECTION) INTO MAKING THINGS I DISLIKE ILLEGAL, SUCH AS WIND
YES

