Gian V.

My name is Gian. This is my space to explore and share my writing. There is a lot of rough draft material here, but I hope you enjoy yourself!

[poetrygian]

A bookend

Hi, my name is Gian Marco and I am a mixed race, queer Muslim poet from Canada. And it has been a while!

I haven't posted on this blog since 2017 (almost 10 years ago!). Coming back to this blog after such an amount of time is strange. When I first started sharing my writing here, I was really just beginning to see myself as a writer and an artist. I was experimenting with being vulnerable in digital space, testing if my work might connect with others.

Although I've come to see my writing practice as something more internal and ultimately something I do for my own wellbeing, I still appreciate that this blog exists. It is a time capsule of a certain time of my life where I was brave enough to send my words out there into the world without much agonizing.

Perhaps as a nod to the younger writer you started this blog, I wanted to at least bookend it with something that shows where this writing ended up taking me.

Two years ago, a writing dream of mine came true. I published my debut chapbook, Perpetual Prayer: a collection of multilingual poems and collage art. I was so lucky to partner with The Polyglot, an independent artist collective that promotes multilingual art. With their support, I got to design the entirety of my chapbook, front cover to back.

If you're still interested in my work, I hope you enjoy reading my chapbook. And if you are an artist of any kind, I hope you continue making things for yourself.

[poetrygian]

July 11, 2017

I want to blot you out the way I close my blinds to the full moon, blocking it from entering my bedroom.

Tonight the ghosts stream down in straight silver lines and fill me with wildness, whose scent and taste are very much like the cold steel that sings in your back pocket.

I’ll never sense the bite of it coming from your right hand. I imagine the left, wrapped around me once again.

[poetrygian]

July 2, 2017

When the wisdom liner crosses the horizon, I’ll know what to do

But for now I can sit here on the shoreline with my chicken-and-pita fingers, watching the gulls glide around the slippery rocks

Their songs don’t bother me today, they are less squeaky and less frantic than I have known them to be

The sound normally cuts coiling painfully in my ear but today I am in the mood for seabird sopranos

Today I am in a place where I cannot stay, today I am part of the scenery—

A ship disappears slowly behind an island in the distance.

[poetrygian]

June 17, 2017

Men who hold my face and call me beautiful never speak to me again once I stop resisting and sink to the level of sweet nothings Men who call me ugly in a hundred tiny ways like picking lint off my shirt or scoffing at a picture of my unbearded face still make me smile

But I don’t let it get to me: I don’t even ask where the third man is anymore.

[poetrygian]

June 8, 2017

my love on every breath

petals stitched from sunlight

fall from my tongue

i taste

oranges, pomegranates,

and bergamot.

[poetrygian]

06.05.2017

Guilt is for murderers, she tells me, holding out a handful of my favourite flowers.

[poetrygian]

May 8, 2017

This has no good ending I know this because I know myself

Sometimes I say Thoughtful things Over steaming plates and cups of coffee

I frequently bat my eyelashes More than I ought to Always mindlessly

Like leaving your front door unlocked When your mother tells you not to Because you need to feel that This is a safe neighbourhood

What I’m trying to say is There isn’t a single cup I haven’t spilled from.

[poetrygian]

February 25, 2017

Why do you come to me?

Facing the other direction, your blue back within arm’s reach, my cheek against your nape, and never a word passed between us

Don’t you know I would move the ocean for you?

[poetrygian]

February 18, 2017

A February fire must mean something People passing by, turning heads to see The street lined with ambulances And strobes of red light, A woman in her pyjamas shivering, Damp slippers in the soft snow, Naked flames dancing in the sun As winter draws to a close.

[poetrygian]

January 15, 2017

The light is heavy, even on a cloudless day, when the snow melts softly and, when resting my head against a misted window, the sun hits my cheekbone. I say to it: I know that your warmth can still touch me even if it doesn’t always seep in and settle.

[poetrygian]

October 24, 2016

i wouldn’t hold your hand on an empty path but i would wipe powdered sugar from your lips with my thumb in a crowded park

i refused to take a bite from your fork but silently thanked God for your kindness; please know that it wasn’t wasted

i felt you staring at me while we were watching tv though i pretended not to notice; i would not return your gaze

in fact, what have i given you at all except a single finger pressed purposefully across your face?

now that you want answers, how do i tell you the truth? that no one has ever wished to hold me, not with their arms, not with their eyes

i pray i am not being cruel i was always told that one good deed could erase all the bad.

[poetrygian]

05.14.2016

It was right at the time.

[poetrygian]

April 17, 2016

I never was good at saying goodbye That dreadful moment of parting, I never wait for it

I’d rather mark my exits and dash without a word than stare into your eyes as if for the last time

The lingering promise of never again sits too snugly around my neck, hands poised to strangle me

I don’t want to clasp our hands and wish each other good luck I need to run just to breathe

I’m sorry if you don’t understand but goodbye has never been a friend, goodbye has never been gentle—

Goodbye has only ever been a blindside, a surrender to the moment, an emergency call in the middle of the night

So, forgive me if I don’t take the time to extend my farewell like a handmade card or a trinket passed between loved ones, a pitiful plea not to be forgotten

Just know you always have a home between my chin and my shoulder— I keep this shelter for you.

[poetrygian]

04.02.2016

There are bones in your basement

[poetrygian]

February 21, 2016

Everywhere I look, I see beating hearts Beating hearts on the walls Beating hearts on the ground Everywhere I look, I see them all around Melting in my coffee Melting in the snow I see beating hearts, cartoonish and round

And when I go to bed, I hear a single beat Drumming in my head Hanging like a peach It dangles in my chest, caged below my throat Waiting to be wrung out Trying to close My heart, my heart, my heart

Does everything come back to you?

[poetrygian]

02.03.2016

Gently, gently

[poetrygian]

January 13, 2016

I have one kiss left, bitter like a cough drop, it waits patiently like a seed, waiting to be planted

I consider burying it in the garden or stirring it in my tea, anywhere but where it currently sits: flagrantly upon my lips

I want no one to find it until I’ve learnt how to give it, no longer letting it be taken

When my mouth is a bed I make for myself alone.