#poetry!!!!!

[themyscirah]

hi there!!!! i really really love your metas & posts 🤩 is it okay if i ask trick or treat?

🎃🎃🎃

Halloween trick or treat game: I'm giving out poems / poetry recommendations

Of course!!! Late response on this as always but I'll do a recent read for this and pick Max Lavergne's "Otzi Awake". Saw this poem recently floating around the internet ether and really liked it (immediate addition to the poem notebook) and also think connections can be made between it and themes I've touched on in posts & metas abt Wonder Woman stuff on this sideblog lol (the Hiketeia for this one but could also see lots of stories that relate)

Anyways took image off reddit for ease

But here's a link to the author's substack post too:

OTZI AWAKE

At long last Otzi the Iceman awoke in the museum and pulled the arrowhead from his shoulder.

Also apparently they have a tumblr which is cool too! I'll tag @reallyreallyreallytrying bc I'd want to know others think my stuff is cool if I were them, lmk if for some reason you're not cool with spreading this or smth and I can take this down

[oakashandwillow]

All that bravery got us nowhere | Hemant Mohapatra

This unnatural hour that I have slept in still hungry from an unfinished early meal, you appear with your full body and voice and ask me to write again. I am sitting in a car, running late for my piano lesson, and you are leaning at the door, telling me the trees have stopped growing where you live. That you've walked across two continents but the moon still refuses to leave you. ** I hear you've started praying now—cut your hair and stopped wearing blue. They say you suffered for my art, for desire and despair. I suffered for my quietude, for I thought freedom meant something grander. Thankfully, our inequities were even: clear and simple, the way horses grieve. After a while, it became harder to realize I was not talking to my refrigerator. I was, in fact, suffering. ** In the dream, we are now climbing a staircase. I am walking behind you, watching your milky calves stroll in and out of your summer skirt. "What do you understand of love?" you ask. "Nothing," I say. "And loss?" "Nothing." "Then why do you write about either?" "I don't." ** "I write about you." You pause for a moment, but do not turn back. Outside the window, birds are turning into stone. Around the world, everyone is entering a conversation.