bearing lightning

poetry reblogs // none of the words on this blog belong to me // main @aikaleegrave

[smallepics]

Parks at Night Gothic, 10.31.21 || Lau B

[smallepics]

Meditations, Lau B. || 07.02.24

[TEXT ID:

it’s the longest light on the boulevard. school children and salary men baking under windows. i feel lonesome, like one day i will leave and the landscape will change. the curb will change. the light will change. it’s tuesday and my eyes are out. i want to hold the green cross walk sign.

embrace it. a shiver.

i take my education and move to another state. i think fondly of two lane roads. i come home like all my parents. i think fondly of soup in an all hours shop. it’s 107 degrees and i pull out the drill. the sun concusses me and i’m tearing at the metal. a breeze bends the corners of the thoroughfare

im belly down the slip face of a blown out dune and my mouth is hinged no wider than a child’s. my baby teeth wiggle into crabs marching into the ocean. she slips in froth and i slip sand blown under the tide. i was supposed to drown yesterday. yesterday. further down the coast is painfully white. the crabs crawl over one another.

the light changes. we bloat the intersection heading east.]

[ragewrites]

The groupchat has been reading the NYT again, so here’s annie wants to be famous, an erasure from a profile this ‘distinguished’ publication has done on an alleged micro-influencer.

[ragewrites]

During the fall leading up to my fifteenth birthday, I came very, very close to committing suicide. Today I turned twenty-five. I had that fifteen year old girl I almost wasn’t sit down with me for a metaphorical conversation.

transcript under cut:

[Fifteen Speaks to Twenty-Five] Leah Saint-John

Are you alive

Yes

Does it hurt

Yes

Are you glad

[instead of an answer there is a helpless look]

Is it all still green

Especially in June

Do you still love it

Especially in June

What colour is our blood

Garnet

It’s thickened

Yes

Is it a sickness

Yes

What does the garnet make you think of

Mouths God’s mouth The inside of His eye sockets

Are you happy

Sometimes

Is it enough

Sometimes

Are you lonely

Yes Garnet Like God

Did it get better

Yes No Yes Yes

Are you living

Yes Almost

[havingapoemwithyou]

because the color is half the taste by Paige Lewis

[bedroomlight]

GLOWWORM

my darling boy playing cadaver in the caves who will find your body amongst the rare worms and walls stained with bat-shit and blood

you lay in the cold enacting a shakespearean death scene: the young hero dead in the glow of larvae sworn rival dead at his side

something about that scenario weighs in you deep like concrete and we have come here to tell you your body will not be found for no one will think to look in that cave and the worms there are voracious unlike others of their kind one day you will glow from your very veins and then your absence will glow

[ragewrites]

Midwinter Triptych, Lianna Schreiber 28-29 / 01 / 2023 § Prior to the pandemic, I used to write a fair amount of seasonal poetry, just sort of observing and recording the world around me. It still seeps in, of course, all my poems come to me in the moment and the moment is coloured by its backdrops, but…I lost my sense of time these past few years, it’s fair to say. And I would like it back. So, this year I promised myself I’d write at least one landscape per month; this is January’s, and unintended, too. I just paused in the window at three different moments since yesterday morning… :]

[smallepics]

Tiny God, by Lau B. || 12.23.22

[Text ID: not a lot to give

but here is the sky, it’s yours. in the gray clouds and tin roof. a river snake. the black clouds brought in on rolling metal decks.

here the windstorm. green in your hands. the years turn over a belly fat with sky in the morning. the blue of a young tree. the threads of its trunk.

here in the shoreline and the sediments within. jumping from the nets. sand in the mouth and on the lip of the sun. white capped and fat. the hours in birth and giving way to a muddled chest. rich. gluttonous. mud hidden in the river. dances on the sawgrass.

[smallepics]

Swimteam, Lau B.

10.20.22

From @nosebleedclub October 2022 Prompts

[TEXT ID:

xvii. bad plan

in the back seat.

on camera.

in the mirror and tones.

black green and bumpin’.

dance.

alignment.

ease.

choice.

wind.

xviii. lazarus

I CAME BACK AND THEY TOOK ME TO DINNER.

I ATE IT AND HATED MYSELF FOR IT.

xix. possession

The clarity of knowing where you are. I think my way through breathing. In private I practice eating and the chewing turns gentle.

She doesn’t mind, it was a relief. I told her about grass in the sun, how it itches and calls, how it winks and splays. Now she has green. She’s been bathing in that chlorinated noise.

Woke up this morning, 5 am, sweetening time. I’m taking us out, these fingers are to die for.

The morning dew reeks of paper.

I’ll say it first, I know my body: I’ve come back wrong. I breathe through my pulse and it comes back faster. All night, I beat and beat. She gets confused in certain lights and I let her out— I’ve been practicing my chewing. It’s

ochre, this time of year, anyway. Rust in the darkest brick.

These fingers are young. Unripened. Jointed. Fidgety. Round. Fat. Ruddy. I’ve been watching them sit all day. This time of night? It’ll be green. It’ll ask after you.

“You know I’ve been looking—“ and this works out anyway. I’ll give you a holiday. Ceremonial.

There’s something wrong. It’s loud. The wind is asking after me. It’s hot. I’m beating.

I’m still beating. And wind. Wind too. I’m breathing.

Sweetening. ]

[smallepics]

a stone in the mouth of a tadpole, Lau B.

09.03.21

[TEXT ID: in the mouth of a crying bird, some day after the front has passed, the pavement steams a brand. the grass dies out and

a forest hangs in heat.

its pond leaves,

its stones sink cold songs

ask my loss to wait,

wait:

for the light to sigh beneath the waves.

a hiccup in the humming. a Great Horned sun watching, canopy into shoreline, some eyes take longer to turn,

the tree clouds shake the owls nest and I emerge

leeward winds, turning the rhythms over into tides ]

[muppethole-deactivated20240312]

ruin me, Robert Bly

[ragewrites]

variations on a poem for my brother, Lianna Schreiber 27 / 08 / 2022

[catilinas]

Vahni Capildeo, from Odyssey Response in Like a Tree, Walking

[rabbittmouth]

i.

IF THEY EVER PUT A HAND ON YOU I’LL KILL THEM.  I MIGHT EVEN ENJOY IT.

ii.

i have been weaving love for you and it looks like magnolias. sunflowers. carnations. i have been unburying love like stones in the fields. you are the tide. call you the city. call you an earthquake. call you after every inch of shoreline, all of california. a hallelujah for your throat. a sermon for your tongue. i am a haunted house and you are the haunting. a hunting dog. helen of troy. the whole month of august. i have never learned to beg but these hands would beg like dogs if you asked. this heart would be a hound in your name. i have been  building empires, the only way i know how  to love. call you a kingdom.  call you a reckoning.

iii.

I DON’T MEAN THAT AS A JOKE. I MEAN I’LL KILL THEM. WITH MY TEETH IF I HAVE TO.

[marianhalcombes]

Leaves | Lloyd Schwartz

[confessionalists]

under no circumstances, kiera. k

[kafk-a]

George Seferis, ‘On a Ray of Winter Light’

[sunsounds]

[text ID: Years ago you said: / ‘Essentially I’m a matter of light.’ / And still today when you lean on the broad shoulders of sleep / or even when they anchor you / to the sea’s drowsy breast / you look for crannies where the blackness / has worn thin and has no resistance, / groping you search for the lance— / the lance destined to pierce your heart / and lay it open to the light. end ID]