just write it down, plain as bathroom wall scrawls, like a one minute video, like only the chorus of an old rock ballad everyone already knows the words to, each line sounding like something they’ve heard before and already believe a bee pollinating plastic flowers melting in a too hot sun, boca background ,dappled light […]
Author: annewalk
after
we look through eyelids seeing each other in negative outlines that moments ago were coloured in
Scout
Daguerreotype with hat and horns gunpowder for a white man in buckskin peeled from the backs of fathers of fathers of fathers he speaks three languages while I speak none
The cup of apathy
For want of a feeling I fillthe cup with water from the wellof my childhood —sour sourceindifferent to the stinkof feigned remorse I drink.
Is happiness an admirable trait when the world is burning?
Do we perform “happiness” to make others feel more comfortable or to make ourselves feel more comfortable? If there is no tomorrow, what does it matter how we feel today? Whether we’re more or less heroic? Polite? Respectable? Discuss.
thirty minutes at a time
when something dies, we make a statue in a park downtown and office workers sit in its shade eating half hour lunches smoking nervous cigarettes
cut out
the hole where you were but now are not an outline of your arms outstretched, and I can’t tell which way you’re facing
dream/space
Thinking about how we write stories while we sleep
a small note about pockets
Women don’t have pockets to carry the things we need to carry so we carry them in our bodies until they become a part of us. No nightstand tray, sling bag full of bad experiences, memories of our mothers. We carry her too, in our bellies that wax and wane like moons puffed up with […]
ungodly
glass clouds
we gather in failure
Winged Woman at a Window
Speyside gas station
I Can’t Do This Anymore
*I asked an AI to write a song about a breakup. This is that song*
Me in 2022
Recollection
To re-collect is to gather up the remnants of an old cloth, shake off the moths and hair of former companions and wrap it around the shrug of current concerns
Pandora’s poem
Kiss your tired eyes Fruit is rotting in the fridge You sleep in your socks (written by a chatbot)
Way Back Machine
Thirteen billion years ago two galaxies kissed each on the napes of their necks like reuniting grandmas.
Mirror Image
We found that bird, neck snapped and bloody on the deck under the window. Towers look like skies. you said gnawing on the end of a bone. The skin is the best part.