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replanting into the dirt. [day 17]


I once suffered through a movie
about a legless bird with no place
to land. Identifying with the hero
who fed lovers cheap chocolate and
beer. Despised all mothers, side-stepped
Manila’s claws, bled over the portal
to perfidia. What made me different
was how I couldn’t lie still on the table.
The last remnant of the dream of the
book insisting. It had to be enough.
I spat out the slug in my throat. Pretended
not to recognize my shiny doll face. To escape
all my deadly errors, I had to be synthetic.
To write as more than I was, to pass through. 

Constructed with words from J. Pluecker, Kimberly Alidio, Ching-In Chen, Jai Arun Ravine, Pia Cortez, Tom and Lorenzo’s tweet (via Kim), Sueyeun Juliette Lee (via Ching-In), and Days of Being Wild.

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'this is the essay this is the fiction this is the poetry this is the novel this is the writing you have been waiting for.'—Theresa Hak Kyung Cha

J. Pluecker:

There are shadows, bait for fishes. A clear day is raining, a love that was never said. Love, ah yes, love, amazing baits are raining from the sky on the shadow of fishes in the sea.

Clear days fall. Some strange baits with clear days stuck to them, with loves that were never said.

The sea, it says the sea. It says baits that rain and clear days stuck to them, it says unfinished loves, clear and unfinished days that rain for the fish in the sea.

- Raúl Zurita, Translated by William Rowe 

Ching-In Chen:   Ananya Dance Theater’s Kshoy!/Decay!:

Kshoy!/Decay! from Ananya Dance Theatre on Vimeo.

Jai Arun Ravine:   ’l. Not a tomb but an envelope; not an envelope, but a door; not a door, but a fire escape. m. Not a casket but an envelope; not an envelope, but a window; not a window, but a sigh.’ - Jenny Boully, The Body: An Essay 

Pia Cortez:

Penetration into the source. What is the source? Consciousness. What is consciousness? You’re soaking in it, right now. How do you know? Close your eyes for a moment, sit very still, and try to imagine God and the Devil are sitting around a raging campfire making s’mores, and your heart is the marshmallow. There.

-Mark Morford

Kimberly Alidio:  ”I want my writing to be a criminal act.” Pamela Lu from her piece in Poetic Labor. I transcribed her talk here, and the original link (audio) is here.

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Dear Collaborators, 

Thank you so much for participating in this project. Reading your fabulous work and writing with you has been an anchor for every day of the past couple of weeks. Your words have moved and challenged me, and introduced me to new sources of inspiration. I’m deeply grateful.


ETA: If you’d like, please feel free to post your poem for today in the comments; no need for more prompts, though. 

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