Eliana @frottingchrist - Tumblr Blog

“Dream She”

My brain goes missing you whenever I dreamt of you that morning. In sleep, possibility is realized as how it would be, Were I courageous and not broken in some small way. In waking, my day is confused with thoughts of you, With thoughts of not quite you, some other you, The you who visits my dreams. Occasionally and tremendously, with power like no other To alter my waking days, I beg of you to release me, Like I beg of myself, my past self, To be not myself, to be someone stronger and unbroken.

#poetry #poem #dream #dreams #you #writing #creative writing

Fantasy became a tumor as we inverted. A haze of suicide that I wanted to make real Was sustained by the front of regret and wracking guilt Descending from not quite myself.

Learning to be whole, might I stop and make a suggestion?

#poetry #short poetry #sketch #suicide #fantasy

Primitive fire as analogue to your work Seeming to be no one In extremis What two syllables make the best start?

#poetry #poem #poems #writing

Radio appearance tonight 8/10

Me and the rest of Diva Karr will be on 104.9 WRBB in Boston between 9-10pm tonight. Check it out for some gross jams

http://www.wrbbradio.org/

#WRBB #college radio #diva karr

5-8: 17 Poems per month 2017

What true love looks like

is potential now and brutal regretful memory.

Brutal mournful updates turn from pleased awareness

to another involuntary reexamination leading to self-prosecution.

Indict me so I can know the evidence that

I have strayed or sinned far from my potential.

I stew in guilt and cringing assaults,

cursing in bursts I can’t control;

trying to control, or confidentially stroll out of the room,

letting those remaining return to their interiors,

barely holding on and crying out for

some illusory portion of knowledge, or better,

someone who’d rather look in their eyes.

(ewd 5/20/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

5-7: 17 Poems per month 2017

Interrupted with things neither the stranger or I know; He erased my attempt at euphemism and message Because I sit upon a populated path in a serene arboretum For no poetic reason besides unwillingness to offer Further pale skin to mosquitoes and wretched. This ivy-curated garden enormous and green Gives voice to birds, wind, and critter rustle, But the droning of the city continues beyond Groves of rare trees, countless rabbit dens, And unaware, unwilling, eternally bachelor birds. Yesterday in America’s inaugural cemetery The only assaults came from planes exhaling towards the coast And my sneeze startled a wild turkey Who doesn’t know live or dead. I wish I was ignorant the same So my imaginings aren’t so fatal And future death was no more tempting Then my next tattoo or ultimate release.

(ewd 5/19/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

#poetry #poem #garden #cemetery #writing #ideation

5-6: 17 Poems per month 2017

“Cold Denial”

So many things would be different I bet, If I had said yes, or winked saying no With my back to a piece of denial. Then or now, such asking, such unironic desire, Rattles my earnest sensitivity and fucked up accruements. I wanted to say yes but was petrified Of myself, of possibility, then and now. It was my second no, and much more painful Than the first. Now that my icy limbs and stone mouth Are freed, I can’t find the third question. I know it has changed to something heavier And bold, but I can’t be sure, Even as tears come loving your you.

(ewd 5/16/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

#poety #poem #writing

5-5: 17 Poems per month 2017

“Thank you”

I looked at me, cringing from your touch. I looked at me, recoiled and tense because I might have desire. So long years passed when I needed touch Long years passed breaking apart my stone mouth. I am no longer spying the clouds. You, time’s mirror, tell me of my clear eyes, Not darkened with visions & death.

I still seek ways to avoid the words with you. I hide and muddy it with jokes and irony Because you are unknown to me. You last knew me when all was mine, If going back made decision easier, I would go, But I am more beautiful clear-eyed and welling at your look. As you drive away, I write this: I don’t want time to reverse, but I would like you back here.

(ewd 5/14/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece and also trying not to tell on myself)

#poem #poetry #writing #heartsick

5-4: 17 Poems per month 2017

Look at you, cringing from the touch of a friend. (When you want her embrace When you spy with horror your regrets When you know what your stone mouth wrought)

Stay with me (1. False chivalry as pure illusory justification 2. Drown and confuse with denials and hostage proclamations 3. Pretend everything is ok)

Should I come back? (I wish wish wish yes I wish wish wish we were back I wish wish wish I wasn’t like this)

(I would not deny a third time)

(ewd 5/14/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

#poetry #poem #heartsick #writing #regret

5-3: 17 Poems per month 2017

Sleep with the ease Of a single snowflake A foot inside virgin snowfall That sees the sun only through The chatter of friends And is assured that its palace Is as fine and beautiful as you.

(ewd 5/2/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

#poetry #sleep poetry #poem #snow

5-2: 17 Poems per month 2017

Anger pools and evaporates In needed sleep. With unaware breath, And comfort earned, My body exhales, Offering me, beautiful.

( ewd 4/26/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

#writing #poem #sleep poetry #poetry

5-1: 17 Poems per month 2017

Unaware of a shift of phrase, it became “The world is elsewhere” in my escape from my body and up the ladder of immortality.

A fundamental difference from “There is a world elsewhere” in his fleeing from persecution by his peers to new connections and freedom.

(ewd 4/6/2017 posting sporadically while i work on a bigger piece)

#poetry #poem #writing #shakespeare

April: 17 Poems per month 2017

I’m working on a long project (that I’m now about 2/3 of the way finished), which is consuming my poetic efforts. Until it’s done, I’ll post some stuff that is either unrelated or won’t make the cut.

#poetry #poem

3-17: 17 Poems per month 2017

I can’t think or do anything From grief for a man I never met But felt as part of me.

(ewd 3/30)

#poetry #poem #writing

3-16: 17 Poems per month 2017

Eliminate distance: Sleep unmoving In perfect Comfort, or Delay dreams In smiling Comfort with the lucky let-in.

(ewd 3/29)

#sleep poetry #poetry #poem #writing

3-15: 17 Poems per month 2017

“Alabama”

Discovered today that a piece of me died Almost two years ago. HE lived thousands Of miles away, unknown to me, until know. He could be me, but he died my death.

(ewd 3/28)

#writing #poetry #poem

3-14: 17 Poems per month 2017

Desperately, I cling to the last Of which gives me hope Of which stays my morbid thoughts Of beauty I still can find Of anything keeping me alive.

(ewd 3/28)

#poetry #poem #writing

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