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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2020-06-11 11:50:07 -07:00
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writing/poetry/mental-health.html
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@ -15,11 +15,11 @@
<p><span class="tag">writing</span> <span class="tag">poetry</span> <span class="tag">mental-health</span></p>
<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
<div class="verse">There is too much fire in me
to be described by the soldering iron's tip.
to be described by the soldering iron&rsquo;s tip.
If I were to draw that across my flesh,
it would all spill out at once.
I'd melt, eaten whole by flames,
I&rsquo;d melt, eaten whole by flames,
and flow into a pool of molten silver.
I would be borne up through the clouds,
and grow lighter by the second.
@ -28,7 +28,7 @@ Sublimation would claim me then,
All that energy poured to the air around me,
an imperceptible increase in temperature.
Particle would excite particle
  until I'm felt only as warmth on your face.
  until I&rsquo;m felt only as warmth on your face.
But even that would not be enough.</div>
<hr />
@ -41,14 +41,14 @@ The shipping forecast! What a load of bollocks.
You can listen from start to finish
And not hear a single word about how a day will feel.
Or maybe it's a pale, tired, steganography:
Or maybe it&rsquo;s a pale, tired, steganography:
Moderate, becoming poor, violent storm 11.
Burning up, drowning, torn by wind, and all I can manage
is to tell you southwest gale 8 to storm 10.
I can point at the moon, exhausted, bored, decaying,
And hope you don't stare blankly at my finger.</div>
And hope you don&rsquo;t stare blankly at my finger.</div>
<p><em>Thanks to P.R.</em></p>
<hr />
<h2 id="bruise-vision">Bruise vision</h2>
@ -250,20 +250,20 @@ Failing that,
<p><q class="comment">First-place winner of the <a href="https://www.typewriteremergencies.com/single-post/2018/02/13/Beneath-her-coat-was-a-whole-identity---1st-Place-Winner">Typewriter Emergencies Poetry Contest</a>.</q><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
<div class="verse">Beneath her coat was a whole identity:
A subtle form of ideas under soft fur,
A constantly shifting mass of meaning...
A constantly shifting mass of meaning&hellip;
And somehow, she pulled it off.
She would go for days without shedding a thing,
And then, as if a bottle rolling off a counter,
She would shatter, sending shards of self flying,
And then we'd all see.
And then we&rsquo;d all see.
Then we'd all see the terror, the joy,
Then we'd all see the grief at nothing,
Then we'd all hear her say,
"I'm not built for a life with death in it."
Then we&rsquo;d all see the terror, the joy,
Then we&rsquo;d all see the grief at nothing,
Then we&rsquo;d all hear her say,
&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not built for a life with death in it.&rdquo;
And slowly, she'd pick herself back up
And slowly, she&rsquo;d pick herself back up
And find a brand new way to piece herself together
And build herself a brand new smile
And brush out her coat once more.</div>
@ -293,7 +293,8 @@ Let time eat your memories of me:
A final morsel to savor.</div>
<hr />
<h2 id="rush">Rush</h2>
<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q>
<q class="comment">In <em>ally</em></q></p>
<div class="verse">A flash of coppery sweetness,
A clearing of the sinuses,
A burst of unnamed colors,
@ -351,7 +352,7 @@ Down cycle
Round and round</div>
</article>
<footer>
<p>Page generated on 2020-04-24</p>
<p>Page generated on 2020-06-11</p>
</footer>
</main>
</body>