#atopia

[lifeinpoetry]

I crash like a bombed-out calamity / I am no good for anyone

— Sandra Simonds, from Atopia

[nahhhlina]

from Atopia | Sandra Simonds

I am a terrible American I am so suicidal I am a terrible suicidal American who throws herself into your desiccated bank vaults Yet I do not want America to kill me before I kill myself I can’t stand my positive acquisitions I throw them to the dogs like marrowless bones I can’t stand my drinking I’m sorry that I destroyed you by the fires of money I feel no nationalism I feel no nationalism in my heart, my hands, my brain or my pussy I myself am worse than a rogue state I feel peeled away from society I will never leave the bed I will never enter the cold winds of money I want to die in my bed with the covers over my head The books I have written for other people sicken me like plague The books I have written for so little money like a ghost tripping on the pavement I will be forced out of my enemy’s hands like ghosts in the wavy grasses America, I am the moors you lack My voice crosses you like some bleak financial awareness I crash like a bombed out calamity I am no good for anyone The vines of my thoughts are the cries of your abandoned people and animals I am the home of the birds and that’s all I will ever be Inside my heart is a boat of Noahs I am the town washed away by starvation and flooding I am the downed power lines of your literature I spark up from the pavement like the jolting of a corpse I am that corpse who jolts up and goes on a long walk America, I am the long walk of your lost wilderness

[gabyarbz]

Atopia 

Hay días en que siento que no pertenezco a ningún lugar.

GabyArbz 

[rujorampaperisokea]

Itken. H&M Homessa on aivan ihania tuoksukynttilöitä (JUMANKAUTA MÄNTYMETSÄ JA MAHONKI!!) ja äiti ystävällisesti muistuttaa mua olemaan niiden kanssa varovainen, koska tuoksukynttilät ja venäläinen rul atopia ei välttämättä leiki kiltisti keskenään.

[lifeinpoetry]

No. / Poetry is not harmless.

— Sandra Simonds, from Atopia

[lifeinpoetry]

The next day, walked to CVS to buy nail polish, body full of those spirits, bent over the blush, had a nosebleed like in the movies when everything’s too much for the psychic, utterly convinced some of the lightning got stuck inside the cauldron of my head, trying to get out of myself, I bled, I bled.

— Sandra Simonds, from Atopia

[lifeinpoetry]

Write “ruin” Write “trauma” Write “The dramatic logic of crisis” Outline what you know in chalk as one does the body at the crime scene Then look at the sky welling up Summarize I mean summon how unusual it all was, how urgent

— Sandra Simonds, from Atopia

[lifeinpoetry]

See, the thing is, Poet, you’re failing. You’re failing at capitalism. You’re failing at “self-care.” You’re failing at feminism. You’re failing at activism. You’ve fallen deep into your addiction. Your despair spreads everywhere. None of this is your fault but it’s still happening.

— Sandra Simonds, from Atopia