😒 did you just…?
yes because you’re the type of person who knows you’re hungry but is never sure of what you want to eat
Hey PTK aficionados new and old! It’s me, hii’mtheproblemit’sme, Kelly responding to Winnie’s piece & prompt from last week to walk around where I live (or live-d) and take notes. Of course I also did the extra credit to think about someone. Heck, I thought about a whole group of people. Do I get an A++, Winnie?
“I think we are well-advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
😒 did you just…?
yes b/c you’re the type of person who knows you’re hungry but is never sure of what you want to eat so I’ve been Sundaying ever since I cycled through those tangerine streets blocked rubies over head jaeger dark delicate dead burned it down from oost to west grabbed my nymph-twin’s hand and pulled her through the mirror to lead my marching band of past selves through the kinkerbuurt just for a look-see tell her we’re okay tell her it’s taking longer than expected but I’m an extravert who needs extra time we’ve got permanence and a place and stuff has changed more than we thought it would but also in the exact same ways our instinct expected to soften at episodes of teenage innocence and anything with group choreography been forgiving my nightmares all week met the bogeyman but woke up alone in bed tell her I’m learning how to accept the correct invitations tell her the poems we wrote on a whim are being published they’re “moving” people and we’re giving them to the world like little gifts fuck this fucking eclipse am I unsure or insecure when my most embarrassing moments are our most blue velvet busted the wine stains weren’t mine this time travel through caffeine dripped electric pigeons what does it mean to sticker dangers undetected by others manifesting my manifesto choosing which monster I’ll become after midnight unfindable in ancient air what does it mean to not be too much what does it mean to have a marching band to mask is to mirror literature I was making out with a lot of people in 2019 didn’t know the erasure would heal yourself to feel yourself my toxic trait is admin gives me depression is putting an offer on a house on fire people always pin me as red but I’m not all passion and power and what if you cracked me open and a glittery prism oozed from my sternum instead I’m shape shifting but still remaining a nighttime butterfly who only tends to her garden by moonlight physical touch distance society main character syndrome I don’t want to hear cars anymore strongly influenced by the negative and the positive spaced equally from the enraptured knots in my neck can’t be untied at white veiled occasions did it for the alien narration my love language is sitting in a waiting room honey natural light is nothing someone has to be the devil’s advocate if you’re generally happy you’re risking a lot to slightly improve your situation the state is just a dimmer switch that needs to be reimagined solely as a mechanism for redistributing our learning curve for hurting each other was impressively short sighted should I hand my keys over to the kids my capital is the subconscious knowledge from the subtle cues I pick up on everything hey hey watch this magic trick where I turn simple joys into ecstasies and ordinary sadness into despair it loves you but doesn’t understand you understands you but doesn’t love you isn’t it weird how money can’t be murdered what if it died with the people who hoard it we should really seek points of meeting what does it mean to present my observations without classification I’m the librarian of my own living room the meteorologist following the tornado that’s tearing apart your kitchen do you want to bite or be bitten because if you think about it we’re all fated to be plant food anyway
Your poetry prompt for the week is to do what Joan said and check in with your past self (or selves)! Does she need her feelings validated? A Happy Meal? To dance around in her favorite outfit? Can’t wait to see what Larissa comes up with for this one! 😘 😘
Just got around to listening to this (four times) - what a trip - love the couplets nestled in the midst of the word whirlwind - so good!!
After Winnie/after Kelly
so here I go sliding into your DMs
to tell you that you’re not an introvert
anymore.
I hope this finds you.
sitting on the hardwood floor
of the paul-lincke-ufer altbau
not knowing how to pack a suitcase.
(it’s midnight and you are sitting between all
these clothes, crying. and then your lover packs it for you,
carefully rolling the socks
stuffing them into your shoes).
you now travel 7816.1 kilometres
only with a carry on.
sometimes a board bag.
you are an overzealous surfer.
you own a rob machado sunday midlength
you wrap it carefully in a yoga mat, and in honeycombs of folded paper.
you are so efficient, you pack
your mother’s suitcase, her backpack.
you carry both.
you know the shortcuts at airports.
IST. IAD. DOH. GVA. ORY.
you have a travel prayer you say it
when you hear the barking dog
hydraulic pump of the plane’s
power transfer unit
when the plane takes off.
sometimes after you’ve paid for in-flight wifi.
and when you arrive and
step on a rectangular terrace
a little girl is playing on its floor
the sun breaking on the crest of her hair and cascading down her
tiny shoulders and between plants and water and on smooth surfaces.
thick smells of yellow. sweet and tangy and clean.
light sticks to your clothes like anti-dust.
and this isn’t your house.
it is the house of someone you are trying
not to fall for. but it’s too late.
right there. in someone else’s life.
all of the versions of you are marigold seedlings.
for a little while and until you write them
into one of your poems.
and travel to you is now just
like a harry potter doubling charm
everything multiplies by touch.