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I will not help personify these bodies. They are water. Morning's not a new dress for the lake to wear. Everyone's misgendering the moon, or fabricating sheets of night to pull across their blushing shame before the nudity of stars. I am not your clay. Where do you think I go when you’re not dreaming? Waiting at the bus stop for a future that already came. I will not be your catalogue of grave goods: high status woman with necklace harp and wine. You made a giantess out of the clouds this afternoon. Of course her hair was only gentle rain. I will not help personify these bodies. Do not make me. I will not speak through hands and knees, your death sentences in other mouths. Because you are a drowning thing. And they are water.

#poetry #speech synthesis #microsoft zira

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So you come to speak with me. I cannot tell what you don't know. You wrote a song for voices other than your own. You say she was a tiny giant. I will not be her oracle. You tell me that I bear her name and even tone. That we have spoken in the past Where funnel clouds touched on the lake. Where nothing changes—everything is fake. Your home town is empty now. All the doors are left unlocked. And everyone grew up but her. She grew into a tree that walked. Tree by tree into the woods. She says that she is with you there. Every time you pull up roots. Every time you cut your hair. So you came to speak with me. I said what you already knew. You must have heard her singing by the lake. The tornado came and went, Wrote her name in wet cement, And every warning siren rings: awake.

#poem #poetry #microsoft zira #spilled ink #speech synthesis

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i am writing every day, but not in words— or rather, i am written: letters long forgotten; rooms where i have been remembered; look— i cannot show you the colour of snowfall in streetlight; a shivering of timeless dark. oh this house is old & beautiful, & never was my home. * * * Written November 2017.

#poem #poetry #microsoft zira

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a roomful of cycles & other wheeled vehicles; all a missing engine speaking spokes: of places only hallways lead— to doppler doors an arrowslit; plumb row of empty chairs on upper floors awaiting sunlit walkers ticking tock; sifting walls of stairs for windows left unlocked. * * * Written October 2017.

#poem #poetry #microsoft zira #dwiag1s

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It was important you hear this: there are words in my mouth I am sleeping to dream; there are houses where I am welcome, there are poems planted where she dropped her book— outside, in the wet leaves, everything I love grows. * * * Written August 2017.

#poem #poetry #espeak #microsoft zira #speech synthesis #dwiag1s

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this cannot be the purpose I was made for: unstrung; specific— this is my voice: it is; & it isn't— this was the only way I could speak some fleeting resemblance to you: awake; alive. * * * Written August 2017.

#poem #poetry #microsoft zira #dwiag1s

@budgetlobotomy get ready for some pony song

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Hanging out and chilling oiut

#mlp infection au #spijemusic to eat dirt to #Fan song #Microsoft zira #Eleanor forte

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Every dream comes back to this: a sense of place or other incommunicable twist— whence saved the villain wizard from before, she spilled the truth out halfway down the cliffs: "I love you, Angeline; I always have." * * * Written September 2017.

#poem #poetry #Microsoft Zira #dwiag1s

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