#fern.poem

[callme-fern-weh]

I wanted to write. A poem about roadkill today. Flattened on the side of the road; indescribable, unidentifiable. Bones crushed into a meal, a not-yet powder. Icky. The feeling I get from creating art from something gruesome. Gruesome, something I am, probably, for being removed enough from this topic to write about it. I could only see a mound of white on red on fur from my window. My car is red. It was probably bone, or scar tissue. Is it called scar tissue if the skin was just ripped open? How long should I wait to classify it as scars?

[callme-fern-weh]

Yuan Fen 缘分

A poetry zine I made for class

[callme-fern-weh]

[callme-fern-weh]

Juin gales burn my skin with sugar

Cracking and snapping the white

In my spine, bridges sway and bend

Juliet’s tears race down the hull

Of a sinking ship, the captain always goes

down with the ship, we call

Août as pots and tubs of glacier sugar

Sickens into fly traps, less so than

Citronella in a bucket of wax

[callme-fern-weh]

Mirror: an accomplice in my killing

greasy ebony wires burst through

the loose carbon coating the source

of the cracking, aching white shuddering

Every part of my air sours and begs

to scream; it would be simpler to

engage your heart to understand

I don't think a heart can understand-

Not that your mind would either

under duress of love, I wish it wasn't

called that, I wish one-hundred-

million things and among them is that

it wasn't- love, but when the temp

'rature drops and the winds wails

I wish that unsolicited you would

something me, really any verb would

do, promise, I promise that a

settlement is what I could do for

you, so give me anything, con-

jugate me a something for a

someone somewhere, can I

trouble you also for a somehow?

Is that too much or just not

enough

[callme-fern-weh]

At the bottom of the pool are

Drains that can be obscured

By fogginess in the panels

Of energy, coursing thorough

The four sided hole, the smell

That you associate with cold

That burns your lips and spills

Blood into your sinuses, and

The inexplicable heat beating

Itself into the lines around your

Mouth, all of it a reminder,

Like the ding of a gas station

Door or the sensation of

Sickness after coffee, that

You can’t be here, not for much

[callme-fern-weh]

I spent hours

and hours in the Nether

mining the flesh of this hot pot

falling endlessly though

red fountains and

passing pot of gold

seeing things only from below

the ratio of nether block to brick is 4:1

I've been trying to build a pagoda

but I can't

decide what the materials

should be because

I feel like Sisyphus pushing this boulder

up the hill that is needing more

brick for the walls

stone for the brick

wood for the stone

I wish I could spend my whole life building

things with my friends

instead of driving 20 minutes for a bowl of fried rice

[callme-fern-weh]

my professor told me

there was an understanding

between the people and

the wildlife

here, but I don't think

she was right because

I can feel my skin separating from my bones

as I crash

into panels of waves

my shoulders wanted to leave the platform

the short way

it took

well,

all it took in the end

was the desire so see which way the bubbles

escaped, blazing upwards

when you're drowning; lost

, you can always

follow the air