Month: October 2025
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“paper mind” – written 12 march 2018 by Allēna
write somethinganythingthere’s cerebral spinal fluidwhere some of mybrain used to beand it’s one of the manypossible scapegoatsto blamefor why i am like thishumor me for a momentpicture a house with a singleflap for receiving lettersone letter enters you don’t want the letteryou set it on fire(but they’re like a hydra)(the more letters you burn)(the more…
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“haunted tape” by Eight, 10/10/2021
you may want me deadand sundered into piecessmaller than grains of sandbut you’ll never tell and I will never know such is the punishment for twenty hoursof touch that is torture in hindsightsuch is the punishment forshattering a fragile peaceand believe me, if I could destroymyself that utterly don’t you think I would have already?…
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Well, I finally got over my odd fear of performing anything from Field Notes last night at Poet’s Monday.
I performed “samson” and “rehoboth” (not shown). The fundraiser mentioned in the video and caption is here. -Allēna
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“answer”
I could ask my body what will I do when it has fallen and regardless of which side I try and coax, pry, cajole, or beat an answer from –the deaf side or the silent one, the answer is always the same: it already has. sixteen percent of my brain died before I was a…
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“quizás // unmaking” – 17 April 2023
maybe I’ll write about the thingsI want nobody else to know aboutin codelong after I get home – or maybetime will burn the pages of my diary make me ozymandias, and sand and hate will clear my namefrom everything and everyone I made to make way for birch trees and the wheat field behind your…
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“treasure trove” by Eight, 2022
These are the things I keep tuckedbeneath my ribcagethat the last remaining part that is humanin me tries to keep hidden – my anger at death is just longing indisguisesociety is too scared to let me havemy anger is really passionand fear (except for the dull ache that livesbeneath my bottom left rib) (he wants…
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“salvo ii”
last night I made you a promise of a spiral staircase worth walking down a poetically just sort of kick to the chest -your heart nearly stops on a good dayscreaming odd time flutters when you’re distressed well, I’ve got some words that will keep it pounding right from the box I keep locked tight…
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I wrote this based on a conversation I had with a cool fellow poet after Poets’ Monday last week.
“fog kisses” the lake visits me and gives me little fog kissesas she’s been doing since before the housereached out its unforgiving arms and swallowed methey caress my skin and turnthe street lights into stage lightsevery turn on the drive home is a perfectly framedwork of art I once called her my wife many years…