In the fallout from a frightening world, may we sculpt our nightmares into architectures of memory for future generations to climb and build their dreams up to the towering stars. *** Check out this ICE out of Minnesota page and this page for ways to help
Tag Archives: dreams
Every Seed/a World
My body is an earth of liquid with its oceans rising, the cool detachment apathy is melting
stories aren’t real
(find the previous part here) *** of course we know stories aren’t real. But we are real (probably) and language is real (for all its holes) and imagination and empathy are real and in the bubbling soup of us, words, and pretend, out comes this flavor of bakery-made meals and warm bread, or maybe tastesContinue reading “stories aren’t real”
No shame, angst, insecurity
no shame, angst, insecurity can come burning this town down, all deadly thoughts, I soak ‘em in sound.
Seasons
How many years had passed since I graduated? Golly, I hadn’t kept track. A lot in The City. A lot more in the Realm of Green Dragons. But even before I left, I was older than any
The Fig and the Wasp
I don’t think I’m parasocial, but sometimes celebrities show up in my dreams, Kit Connor singing onstage, Janelle Monáe faking their death, and there’s nothing odd or fantastical about the fact
Bury a Berry (nonsense dreams)
bury a berry in the blurry blue barrens, let it blossom tonight. In your sleep, grow Roanoke the lost colony grow rowan, oak to shroud it in mystery grow an old oak to remember go row a boat to escape december chasing happily ever after a tirade of tears and laughter. – bury a blueberryContinue reading “Bury a Berry (nonsense dreams)”
Can’t Take It With You
Pack it all up in boxes, there, there you go, some things you need, some things you care for, neatly tucked away. But it isn’t the stuff I’m not taking that I’ll miss, so much as the memories clung to them like Spring Breeze fabric freshener that I cannot imitate in any other season ofContinue reading “Can’t Take It With You”
Can you hear the violence?
Yes, I stole this line from a Lorde song. No, this poem has nothing to do with “The Louvre.” — thunder bones by midnight, I can be a cannon too; however tired and styrofoamed in silence I sit, my ribs beat for violence. I can wake the sleeping suburbs with my scream rip up theirContinue reading “Can you hear the violence?”
phobia 2/queens never leave
A queendom under siege, What sort of ruler would I be if I abandoned this home that raised me? *** If you enjoy what I’m doing, please consider buying me a pizza:)
Jordyn Saelor 