{"id":70,"date":"2019-04-02T19:56:51","date_gmt":"2019-04-02T19:56:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gcolemanmn.wordpress.com\/?p=70"},"modified":"2019-04-02T19:56:51","modified_gmt":"2019-04-02T19:56:51","slug":"poetry-month","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gabriel.town\/blog\/2019\/04\/02\/poetry-month\/","title":{"rendered":"poetry month 2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

On May 1, 2019, at 3:57 PM, Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

\nHi everyone,<\/p>\n

We did it! We made a month’s worth of amazing writing! Whether you just wrote when you could or didn’t miss a single day, I hope you feel that you were able to stretch yourself and grow in your practice and that you’re proud of what we’ve made together!<\/p>\n

I will finish updating the blog post as I have time over this next couple of days. I would love to make it public so please let me know if there is anything you’d like to redact from a public facing version or if you’d like to keep your work private in general. I’ve also been exing out email addresses but if you would like your email associated with your poems I can also do that.<\/p>\n

Also, I’m planning to make a little printed version of this thread just for us all to have so please send me your mailing address and feel free to send along any visuals that I can incorporate!<\/p>\n

People have also expressed interest in continuing to exchange words – I know personally that I am always open to surprise poems dropping in my inbox and, though I don’t want to make too many assumptions, I think most of us are of that mind so please keep writing and sharing throughout the year!<\/p>\n

Love you all so much. I’m so proud of you all and incredibly thankful and moved that you would all jump in on this adventure. Those of you who don’t live in NY, I miss you very much and and will hopefully see you soon.<\/p>\n

Much Love,
\nGabe<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On May 1, 2019, at 1:21 AM, Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nI dug too deep too fast
\nAnd grew a birchbark forest.
\nSpiney trunks
\nAll my own doing.
\nTethered to the right crease of my trembling wrist.
\nBone white silhouette of stalks
\nSurviving all sorts of weather.
\nMy own private national reserve
\nFor things endangered no more. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 30, 2019, at 9:35 PM, Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nFight Me<\/strong>
\nPull my heart out of my chest
\nand smash it against the concrete wall.
\nLet the bloodstain be graffiti.
\nLet me love things, let me love things.<\/p>\n

You were an expert time piece
\nalways counting, always waiting.
\nYou said you knew your time was coming.
\nLet me love things, let me love things.<\/p>\n

Scale back your expectations
\nand let go of that scrutiny.
\nI\u2019ve been aching for some beauty.
\nLet me love things, let me love things.<\/p>\n

You once said that you\u2019re afraid of falling,
\nand I said it only takes an instant.
\nI could never take you with me.
\nLet me love things, let me love things.<\/p>\n

That last time that I saw you
\nI assumed it would have been the last.
\nI read see-you-laters as Irish Goodbyes.
\nLet me love things, let me love things.<\/p>\n

This cities heart is quaking, people pulsing,
\nand I know just where to find you.
\nI\u2019ll pace the stairs as seconds.
\nLet me love things, let me love things.<\/p>\n

If I pulled you over the edge of the clocktower
\non the hour, would we hit the ground
\nbefore it stopped ringing? I don\u2019t know but
\nlet me love things, let me love things,
\nlet me love things.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 30, 2019 at 20:46 Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nthere\u2019s something
\nnostalgic
\nabout rain;<\/p>\n

the possibility,
\nmore than the
\nconsummate
\ntender droplets;<\/p>\n

the dusk-cloud
\ncoaxing your gaze
\ninward
\ntoward warm bodies
\nof rains past<\/p>\n

the corners of memory
\nless sharp
\nmore indulgent
\nsofter hued<\/p>\n

always
\nreturning to that perch
\neyes on the towering pine
\nstable through the storm<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 30, 2019, at 6:49 PM, Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nStymbol<\/strong>
\nhave you ever had to think
\nabout what your stomach looks like?<\/p>\n

I have
\nand I\u2019m happy to say
\nmy mind has moved into the land of love:
\nrolling hills of flesh
\nthat bisect sharp skin cliffs<\/p>\n

ruins and canyons that nestle
\nbeneath my belly button
\nand above my intestines<\/p>\n

castles with pink undertones
\nrumble above the surface
\nof my digesting food<\/p>\n

biting and cracking
\nin between my ears<\/p>\n

my stomach\u2019s spirit
\nlives in a rosy bungalow
\na jiggly love nest
\nwith nothing but good sides<\/p>\n

it smiles under me
\nmidriff and post euphoric
\nit rocks me to sleep<\/p>\n

looking like an entire biome
\nof pink flesh<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 30, 2019, at 4:43 PM, Gabriel Coleman wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nBy the David Zwirner Gallery<\/strong>
\nand I went walking
\npast the place where I used to live
\nand the places where I may one day live<\/p>\n

I went walking
\nfrom the future into the past
\nand then I went back again<\/p>\n

I went walking
\nby the grove where we kissed
\nin our old neighborhood beneath
\nthe dark summer leaves<\/p>\n

I walked across the bridge
\nand into the construction zone<\/p>\n

I walked past your ghost
\nand my ghost<\/p>\n

I went walking
\nwhere cars only go and I
\nstopped for a while to breathe
\nin their smoke – there weren’t answers<\/p>\n

to the questions, just the same space
\never becoming new\/old
\nplaces in my mind. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 29, 2019, at 8:34 PM, Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThey kept a star upstairs
\nIn the attic they kept it.
\nUnlatched the skylight three times a day
\nThey brought platter or shishito peppers every third day.
\nIt watched and it thought.
\nIt grew slowly
\nBut steady.
\nAnd sometimes
\nThe family would climb the ladder
\nAnd sit in a big circle around it, talking.
\nBut when it was time,
\nThe took a sleghammer to the roof in the dead of night.
\nAnd let it meander up to the sky.
\nAnd the mom cried
\nBecause she had loved it so. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 29, 2019, at 11:31 PM, lena greenberg wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nwe held each other
\non the sidewalk
\nswaying like all the breaths we\u2019d
\ntaken apart<\/p>\n

(brooklyn NY, 4.29)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 29, 2019, at 10:11 PM, Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nOne Crack<\/strong>
\nthe same sun withered tulips
\nthat crawl through my walls<\/p>\n

vibrate
\nwith the same tenuousness
\nas the bed
\nthat flies out the window<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 29, 2019 at 8:34 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nIn the attic they kept it.
\nUnlatched the skylight three times a day
\nThey brought platter or shishito peppers every third day.
\nIt watched and it thought.
\nIt grew slowly
\nBut steady.
\nAnd sometimes
\nThe family would climb the ladder
\nAnd sit in a big circle around it, talking.
\nBut when it was time,
\nThe took a sleghammer to the roof in the dead of night.
\nAnd let it meander up to the sky.
\nAnd the mom cried
\nBecause she had loved it so. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 29, 2019, 4:43 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\ni.
\nhe told me, \u201ci don\u2019t live,
\ni just grapple with existence\u201d
\nand i said \u201csame\u201d or actually
\n\u201clolololololol
\nlolololololololol
\ni mean
\nsame\u201d
\nbut i think
\nit\u2019s all the same<\/p>\n

ii.
\ni caught myself in the mirror
\nand realized my hair looked
\nkind of okay
\nand instantly some voice
\nlit up in my head
\ncheering, \u201cOH MY GOD
\nYES LOOK AT YOU YOU\u2019RE
\nSO CUTE WE LOVE YOU\u201d
\nand i don\u2019t know
\nwhere that voice came from
\nor how it got there
\nbecause i\u2019m not sure
\nif it\u2019s even me
\nbut i want to take a moment
\nto thank it<\/p>\n

iii.
\ni realized
\nthat i now own two pairs
\nof duck socks
\nwhich i have taken to mean
\nthat i am really into ducks now
\nexcept when i tried to type that
\nthe first time
\ni accidentally typed
\n\u201ci am really into dicks now\u201d
\nwhich like, lol,
\nand what a textbook example
\nof a freudian slip<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 29, 2019 at 10:56 Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThe little gods of daytime television<\/strong>
\nput a little too much milk in the tea.
\nThey brighten the stage lights and
\nclothe the set in blonde wood and light
\nblue linens in an attempt to
\ndaylight the windowless studio.<\/p>\n

The little gods of daytime television
\nlighten the screen in our living room
\nthe hosts’ tired smiles stretch around
\nthe dozing audience nesting in
\ntheir chunkily highlighted hairstyle.<\/p>\n

The little gods of daytime television
\nput on a show when we aren’t watching:
\npress false palms through the pixels’
\nmesh to squeeze something out of the
\npulpy masses. It drips onto
\nthe lonely dog who,
\nlacking opposable thumbs
\ncan’t find a way to turn it off.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 29, 2019 at 1:24 AM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nTali was talking without need or reason
\nStaring at my face and pushing the salad spinner
\nWhiz whooosh whiz
\nWhoosh whoosh whoosh whiz
\nFaster faster faster
\nShe kept talking
\nExponentially feeding off the noise
\nLouder louder
\nFaster faster
\nBAM.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

A hole in the roof
\nWhere the spinner and lettuce
\nTook to the skies.
\nOn Sun, Apr 28, 2019, 2:39 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nthe kids on the roofs
\nin the lower east side
\nsnapping pictures amid
\nconcrete skyline six stories
\nhigh it\u2019s amazing that they
\nnever fall or even just
\nspill their drinks<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 28, 2019 at 01:06 Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThe deep purity of low light
\nPaper absorbs flicker
\nantiquity and elegance.
\nThis time the floor is soft and springy
\nAnd my feet walk with the history of everyone else warming the soles.
\nClean smooth wood panels slide me forward.
\nThere is only one way to describe this:
\nLustre. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 27, 2019, 9:50 PM Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nI haven’t been thinking about you at all today. There’s no truth in that at all actually. I’m just tired. I’m feeling a lot of things right now I’ve been a little overwhelmed. Maybe I’ll just keep drifting from one thing to another, keep driving the road between this place and that keep shuttling:
\nI’ve been sleeping under the ground. I’ve been riding underneath the river. This here it beats in the back of my throat that one resonates in the space behind my left ear and there you press into the sore spot in the middle of my hip. It makes my back shiver and reach my arm out. The curve of my spine waves crashing through my epiglottis,
\ndoes this make sense? There was a gesture, a look behind, you always said my eyes were beautiful and I haven’t been thinking about you no in the amber light we were lost to one another and the shade came down over that forth chamber
\nhrt mrmrs fluid filling my vase liquid rushes in to the interior space.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 26, 2019, at 9:37 PM, Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThere are daisies on the counter,
\nand roses and marigolds in the garden.
\nI do not have to care for any of them, thank god. They would die at my hand.
\nI can barely keep my jade plant alive,although I\u2019m currently trying to
\nresurrect it. Although, I supposed
\nthe daisies, are already dying, if not already dead. That seems a bit like a tree
\nfalling in the forest question though\u2014
\nif you cut a flower from it\u2019s roots,
\nis the time of death that instant,
\nor a week later, when you throw
\nit\u2019s withered carcass into the trash.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 26, 2019, at 12:37 PM, Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nPepper<\/strong>
\nI love it when
\nyou break open a pepper
\nand there\u2019s a little
\nbaby pepper
\ngrowing inside. <\/p>\n

Raising vegetables taught me
\nthat these mutations
\nare more common
\nand more beautiful
\nthan we think.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 26, 2019, at 12:17 AM, lena greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nhome is breathing down my neck:
\ni start to make plans<\/p>\n

a gust of wind reminds me
\nspring is slow coming<\/p>\n

the calendar says,
\nkeep going<\/p>\n

the rain drains
\nthe car stalls<\/p>\n

there but
\nnot yet. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 25, 2019, at 9:48 PM, Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

\nRe: Re: Re: Re:<\/strong>
\nI am sleepy.
\nHe calls me baby
\nwhich I guess I like.
\nI\u2019ve been running around
\nthe city for two straight
\ndays for two straight
\nyears in two months time
\nand every cup of tea
\njust tastes like
\nhot water.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 24, 2019, at 6:07 PM, Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

\nEnough<\/strong>
\n(cw: reference to trauma)<\/p>\n

I used to press,
\n\u201cWait, what? When did that happen?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry that happened to you.\u201d
\n\u201cOh, so that\u2019s why\u2014\u201c
\nBut now I can\u2019t tell anymore
\nwhat they thought I already knew
\nor assumed.
\nI can\u2019t tell anymore if
\nthey\u2019re holding their breathe
\nor letting it out.
\nNow, I let people tell me their secrets
\nlike they aren\u2019t secrets.
\nIt\u2019s happened enough times now
\nthat I think it\u2019s easier to say
\nthings like, \u201cUgh
\nI\u2019m sorry someone asked
\nsuch a stupid question,\u201d
\nand let my, \u201cAh, you too,\u201d
\nbe silent, so that they can be as loud
\nas they want.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 24, 2019, at 6:04 PM, lena greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nwhat would the state troopers say
\nif i pulled over
\nand buried all the road kill<\/p>\n

(somewhere OH, 4.24)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 24, 2019, at 2:09 PM, Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nHigh Line Interventions<\/strong>
\n1. Radial Bench Lunch
\nFrom 12:00-14:00 take lunch on the same bench as everyone else.<\/p>\n

2. See and Be Seen – After Kara Nichols
\ni. Wear something noticeable.
\nii. Notice what others are wearing.<\/p>\n

3. Move
\nFind a comfortable place of stillness. Disrupt the flow of traffic if necessary.<\/p>\n

4. Radial Bench Telephone
\nFill every seat on the radial bench and play a game of telephone or two.<\/p>\n

5. Race
\nWithout breaking park rules, endangering yourself, or inconveniencing others, get from one end of the park to the other as quickly as possible.<\/p>\n

6. Move II
\nFind a cozy spot to take a nap.<\/p>\n

7. Cruise (for queer people)
\nUsing our learned vocabulary of identifying gesture, find someone else like you.<\/p>\n

8. Paraphrasing Nam Jun Paik
\nDraw a line and follow it.<\/p>\n

9. ( )
\nWithout breaking park rules, disappear completely into the parkitecture.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 24, 2019, at 10:31 AM, Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThe Mirror (from 4\/23)
\nBeyonce is playing over the
\nspeakers and the coffee is
\nbeginning to buzz in my brain.
\nI channel my desire to stretch
\nmove, dance through pen and
\npaper.<\/p>\n

“I love it here.”
\n“I was just thinking about that \u2014
\nthe best coffee.”
\n“Yeah and the people are really nice
\nand the crowd that comes through
\nis a who’s who of our industry.”<\/p>\n

The conversation and the light
\nand the air is like rain outside the
\nwindow warm inside wet grass and
\nfresh cool cozy mom and forward
\nfold.<\/p>\n

The mirror takes it all in: the ficus
\nand the ash, the traffic cone and
\nbench and me sitting with a blue
\nmug and throws back the cool gray
\nplanter wiggly table book phone
\nfrosted glass and the sun – the man
\nto my left is packing his things. <\/p>\n

Wood on the front – green within
\nand without and a mirror against
\nbrick reflecting it all back.<\/p>\n

He wears
\ngreen pants and a navy fleece
\nvest and I am moved to tears by
\nhis flannel and sneakers and we
\nare in a ray of sunshine bouncing
\nbetween the window and the
\nmirror back and forth across my
\nmind.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 23, 2019, at 8:32 PM, Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nAdoration<\/strong>
\nI praise the floppy haired pop stars
\nand the superheroes and talk-shows.
\nI praise the overnight lines and
\nhundred-thousand word fantasies
\nand the the days-in-the-life.
\nI praise the inside jokes shared by thousands,
\nand attention to every detail,
\nand the time spent making only in the name of love.
\nI praise the belief that anyone
\ncan be anything, and that
\neveryone can be anyone,
\nand the opportunity to feel
\nthe warm and eager weight
\nof adoration.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 23, 2019, at 7:00 PM, Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nrevoir<\/strong>
\nthe whistle trills
\na squawk in young
\nindignation<\/p>\n

grayness looms
\nheavy over
\ntextured lime
\naccents<\/p>\n

threatening
\nbut the sun
\nstill sticks to skin<\/p>\n

a dragonfly
\nzaps by
\nperturbed<\/p>\n

the path
\nlined with tiny
\nyellow wind-
\nflipped umbrellas<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 23, 2019 at 9:13 AM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nwhere i decide to wake up
\nwhere i decide to shower
\nwhere i decide to brush my teeth
\nwhere i decide to live a little more fully<\/p>\n

when i remember to look in the mirror and say you’re beautiful
\nwhen i remember to fight for my space to exist
\nwhen i remember to say no<\/p>\n

not every day
\nnot every hour
\nnot every minute
\nnot every second<\/p>\n

but more often than i used to<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon Apr 22, 2019 at 11:20 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nMissed some days choosing
\nguilt is a choice always I’m
\nchoosing to forgive.<\/p>\n

Would rather miss trash
\nday or poem day or not
\npill paycheck deadline (day).<\/p>\n

I am not van gogh
\nwho ate paint – it sounds awful
\npretty – it is not.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 22, 2019 at 8:03 PM Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\ni could step right through the mirror
\nif i wasn\u2019t in my way.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 22, 2019, at 7:55 PM, Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThere is a calendar,
\nset to December 2017,
\nhanging on my wall.
\nThe picture is of a
\nvintage travel poster
\nof the Taj Mahal.
\nI\u2019ve never been
\nto Northern India,
\nbut once I sat a church
\nin Tamil Nadu on New
\nYears eve while some
\nkids danced to Scream
\n& Shout by will.i.am
\n…
\nAnyway, I think
\nmy refusal to take down
\nthe outdated calendar
\na year and a half later
\nis probably more absurd
\nthan that was,
\nrelatively speaking.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 21, 2019, at 7:49 PM, Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nIrvington<\/strong>
\nseizing above the waves
\nand bowing with its curves
\nat the horizon line of the Hudson
\nyou ask me if we\u2019re alone<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how to answer
\nbetween bits of flotsam floating underfoot
\nand ghostly manatees skirting
\nout of vision
\nand the hazy mental image
\nof metallic snowfall
\n(hundreds of airborne smartphones
\ndescending from the pockets
\nof upside down people).<\/p>\n

The sky is dull and dim
\ntrembling with fire
\nfrom a late sunset<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 20, 2019, at 8:11 PM, Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nPoems from Yesterday and Today<\/strong>
\nIf you yell happily at a rock
\nAnd it is loud enough,
\nIt will almost always yell back.<\/p>\n

Today (groupwrite with housemates)
\nWashing machine
\nDamned thing
\nI need to put my cycle to delicate because the tension is high
\nMy insides are rumbling but my outside looks calm
\nLike a sea of Pepsi before the mentos drop
\nAnd I forgot the stain detergent again
\nTide pods or not
\nThat is the question<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 22, 2019, at 9:25 AM, lena greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nlittle kids with big backpacks
\nthe old man outside read the new york times
\nand shakes his head<\/p>\n

the lawn is green
\nthe sky is blue<\/p>\n

who am i
\nif i can only doubt
\na scene so serene<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 22, 2019, at 1:13 AM, Ash ey axxxxxgmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThe Party Next Door<\/strong>
\nBoom bap
\nAnd basketball.
\nBelly laughs
\nAnd beach talk.
\nBig balloons
\nBig hearts
\nCreaky gates,
\nFalse starts
\nRunning down streets
\nRacing cars. and kickflips
\nAnd sweet frosting
\n licking lips
\nLemonade and cool breeze
\nThis bash is bumping. bees knees<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 21, 2019, 6:02 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nI\u2019m learning to dance
\nand take steps two at a time.
\nI\u2019m pacing the city
\nand bracing for tomorrow.
\nI never seem to want
\nthe things I\u2019ve worked for
\nonce I finally have them.
\nAnd yet, I keep working.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 21, 2019 at 19:49 Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nseizing above the waves
\nand bowing with its curves
\nat the horizon line of the Hudson
\nyou ask me if we\u2019re alone<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how to answer
\nbetween bits of flotsam floating underfoot
\nand ghostly manatees skirting
\nout of vision
\nand the hazy mental image
\nof metallic snowfall
\n(hundreds of airborne smartphones
\ndescending from the pockets
\nof upside down people).<\/p>\n

The sky is dull and dim
\ntrembling with fire
\nfrom a late sunset<\/p>\n

are we alone?
\nhard to know.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 20, 2019 at 8:11 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nIf you yell happily at a rock
\nAnd it is loud enough,
\nIt will almost always yell back.<\/p>\n

Today (groupwrite with housemates)
\nWashing machine
\nDamned thing
\nI need to put my cycle to delicate because the tension is high
\nMy insides are rumbling but my outside looks calm
\nLike a sea of Pepsi before the mentos drop
\nAnd I forgot the stain detergent again
\nTide pods or not
\nThat is the question<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 20, 2019, 9:55 AM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThousands of steps
\npound the earth,
\nmarching forward,
\never forwards.<\/p>\n

We keep are open
\nsecrets and
\nopen wounds,
\nstitching ourselves
\ntogether
\nacross the battlefield.<\/p>\n

Limbs twist
\nlike shrapnel,
\nbacks arching
\nbecause bend,
\nbecause the
\npressure demands
\nfor it, because
\nwe know they\u2019ll think
\nit\u2019s beautiful
\nlike that.<\/p>\n

There are some
\nwho are learning
\nto live under the weight
\nof their armor.
\nThere are others who
\nwould rather die
\nthan carry it.<\/p>\n

And then there are some
\nwho are planting poppies
\nunder their skin
\nin their mourning,
\nand we mourn them,
\nbut we know what it\u2019s
\nlike to want to bloom.<\/p>\n

You won\u2019t bury me
\nis a mismarked grave,
\nI am not an unknown
\nsoldier. I am not your
\nmonument of bravery
\nnor your memorial
\nof shame.<\/p>\n

This war isn\u2019t over.<\/p>\n

But instead of
\nfighting against,
\nwe\u2019re fighting for.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 19, 2019, at 11:01 PM, Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\n(poem from yesterday but didn\u2019t have phone service!)<\/strong><\/p>\n

the lake is long
\na black cloud passes over.
\nthe path is a stream run dry
\nits bed hidden in last fall\u2019s leaves. <\/p>\n

water laps at the shore as the cloud
\nbegins to shed its weight
\nbig sharp drops on rock. <\/p>\n

following the path, i come upon
\na structure: it is the right colors,
\nright curves, even, to belong here. <\/p>\n

but it is of human hands, too sharply cut
\ninto the landscape.
\ncoming around the corner,
\ni see the dam;
\nit wasn\u2019t really
\na lake
\nat all. <\/p>\n

(wichita falls OK, 4.18)<\/p>\n

CW: sexual assault (poem from today)<\/p>\n

grown men<\/strong><\/p>\n

at the army surplus store i met a guy who kind of looks like someone who fucked me without asking. <\/p>\n

we poked around looking for things that fit. i was looking for a blanket. <\/p>\n

he picked one up and said, you wouldn\u2019t believe the number of grown men i\u2019ve seen curl up in these. <\/p>\n

(eufaula OK, 4.19)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 19, 2019 at 8:18 PM Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nThere\u2019s a sense, after the drums have
\nbeen set, the moment the main act
\nbegins playing, of the yolk being
\nbroken open – the yellow flowing now
\nfrom the speakers
\nIn unexpected new shapes in
\nthe light of the darkened theater.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 19, 2019, at 7:41 PM, Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

\nchemical
\nand cognitive
\nreactions
\nfor hate
\nand love
\nare the same;<\/p>\n

those who mirror
\nourselves
\ncause both
\nrepulsion
\nand attraction;<\/p>\n

what are the
\nfactors
\nthat make
\nthe difference?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 19, 2019 at 6:01 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nI am always on the verge of being fragile
\none strong breeze and twisting branches grow tangled
\nI don\u2019t know when my bones will go brittle and snap on their own
\nbut I am an expert at runaway heads
\nand I\u2019m an expert at runaway hearts<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 19, 2019 at 17:58 Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nhere and now, today
\ni will love myself without
\nregard to others\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 19, 2019 at 17:03 Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nButcher blackened apron string
\nMeat and fur and marrow fiend
\nGristle grumble grunt and stomp\/
\nBlock of hock on wooden thumps.
\nBread as soft as petals new
\nKneaded thumbs the flour flew
\nWhirlwind sunlight sift and rise\/
\nHoly Halo loaf of lies. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 19, 2019, 9:38 AM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\nin between memories of sagebrush
\nand desert scrub<\/p>\n

I feel a pair of eyes cut into me:
\npawing with a jagged gaze
\nin the muggy noontide<\/p>\n

and I suddenly become cold<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
On Thu, Apr 18, 2019 at 6:40 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
Twenty minutes into an elaborate fantasy and the daydreamer stops and reminds themselves that it is in fact only a fantasy. Which then means, as is the rule of a fantasy, it is incredibly unlikely for it to actually happen, if not impossible. And if by no small miracle it did happen, it would not happen exactly as they pictured it. This is not to say there is not enjoyment to be found in make-believe, even as a grown-up, or in fact maybe especially as a grown-up. But there is also a threat that comes with believing too much, isn\u2019t there? Some kind of chance of broken-heartedness or the trauma of a failure to achieve a dream. But, with the reminder that their dream scenario is only just that, the daydreamer stops, and goes back to worrying about their day. All the while though, a little voice is whispering in the back of their mind\u2014 it could happen. There is no reason it shouldn\u2019t happen.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
On Apr 18, 2019, at 5:31 PM, Anna-Christina Betekhtin acbetekhtin@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/div>\n
\n
\n

Oh the fear is stifling<\/p>\n

The loneliness even more<\/div>\n
Drug withdrawal, dry fingernails,<\/div>\n
The sure and desperate fall<\/div>\n
In the bathroom at night;<\/div>\n
The beck and call of nurses,<\/div>\n
Efficiency their god and goal.<\/div>\n
To leave the hospital behind,<\/div>\n
To strive to be more whole.<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

On Thu, Apr 18, 2019 at 1:59 PM Brennan bxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

blocked<\/p>\n

but not lost<\/div>\n
forever etched<\/div>\n
forever remembered in silhouette<\/div>\n
your words strike and leave imprints in my mind<\/div>\n
your face forgotten<\/div>\n
your mark not<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 18, 2019 at 10:17 AM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

poem from yesterday <\/strong>
\nDo you think me ignorant
\nbecause I thought the subway ran underwater
\ninstead of beneath the river floor?<\/p>\n

I hope not because I still feel comforted
\nby that thought<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 18, 2019 at 9:57 AM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Variations on a Northfield Sidewalk Poem <\/strong>
\n“Why are your eyes
\ncast down? Look up
\nand listen: The world offers
\nits own poetry.
\n\u2014D. E. Green<\/em><\/p>\n

1. PARAD(W\/M)E
\nmagnolia, forsythia, dogwood
\nEach year I forget the names and,
\nas each bloom arrives, ask myself
\n“Which are you again? a snowdrop
\nor a crocus – or maybe squill or hyacinth.”<\/p>\n

I’m impatient for midsummer when I can
\nturn my gaze to things other than
\nspring’s parade of buds and
\nblossoms and the progress
\nof my spinach sprouts.<\/p>\n

2. A green thread is stitched through the urban fabric.
\nChurch Ave
\nFort Hamilton Pkwy
\n15th St\/Prospect Park
\n7th Ave
\n4th Ave
\nSmith &<\/p>\n

9th
\nCarroll
\nBergen
\nHoyt
\nFulton
\nClinton\/Washington<\/p>\n

3. New York struck me again this morning.
\nI was riding across the bridge noticing
\nhow the buildings rise against
\nthe banks of the river and I\u2014<\/p>\n

oh<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 11:03 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 17
\nDirtbag peptalks are
\nJust what they sound like except
\nNo pep and more dirt.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 10:51 PM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Cool Pants <\/strong>
\nI wore these cool pants I bought yesterday.
\n\u201cCool pants!\u201d said most of my coworkers.
\nAnd I\u2019m not sure if they\u2019re actually fashionable
\nor just attention grabbing but I took it
\nas a compliment.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 9:08 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

the mugg<\/strong>
\ndid you know
\nthat freshly sliced
\nwatermelon
\ncubed
\nand glistening
\nwith lime juice<\/p>\n

is the sensory
\nequivalent<\/p>\n

of a popsicle
\nwarm
\nnot melted
\nwith no
\nbrain
\nfreeze<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 7:31 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

sp l i ting headache
\nand the wreckage
\nof trying<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 6:26 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

soup hovers on the edge of a simmer:
\ncooking at seventy
\ntwohundredfeet<\/p>\n

when the sky is grey time
\nstands still. we are waiting
\nto say goodbye,
\nbut first a meal,
\nan evening of pretending we
\ndidn\u2019t argue,
\nthat family is family<\/p>\n

yesterday we drove past a store
\nwith four signs
\nguns guns guns guns
\nthen back the other way
\nsnug snug snug snug<\/p>\n

she told me she needed one
\nall alone in the woods
\n\u2018but how would i protect myself?\u2019
\nshe asked.<\/p>\n

this time last night i
\nthanked the turning of the earth
\nshe hadn\u2019t gotten one
\nyet. i stayed very still while
\nshe went through the house slamming
\ndoors.<\/p>\n

tonight, we\u2019ll sit
\nsmiling at the table
\nbecause family is family
\nsnug snug snug snug<\/p>\n

(edgewood NM, 4.17)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 2:49 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Good stretch<\/strong>
\nMy body is hollow resounding echos of earth
\nPulsing through heels
\nRacking this chamber of ribs
\nThese fingers pierce
\nUp to clouds
\nThose great misty entities
\nYou arch your spine and
\nr
\ne
\na
\nc
\nh
\nYour sinew sweeps that cavernous sky
\nYour bones grow longer taller
\nCollarbones slicing this planets air
\nGreat dimples filled with ether
\nThroat warm
\nHeart burst
\nStrong toes
\nBreathe into you.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 9:09 AM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 13<\/strong>
\nbuilding, forward<\/em><\/p>\n

remember: one can only walk so far in a day
\nif you ask nicely
\na car can take you further
\nso can a train or an airplane
\nbut you won\u2019t get there alone
\nunless you can build an entire vehicle by yourself
\nif you claim that you can\u2014
\nplease leave.
\nyou can\u2019t<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 17, 2019 at 12:04 AM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 16 <\/strong>
\nGo look up how to
\nlove I\u2019m sure it will say you
\nmust be prepared – now.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 16, 2019 at 11:04 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

one ritual,
\nin the face of
\nuncertainty<\/p>\n

i\u2019ve picked them up and
\nput them down
\nas needed<\/p>\n

but old problems swell
\nfrom beneath a solid surface<\/p>\n

maybe it\u2019s time
\nto go back
\nto something i\u2019d started
\nin crisis<\/p>\n

turn it into something that can
\nrun on energy of
\nthe everyday<\/p>\n

ease myself into that
\nspace
\nbetween
\nchaos
\nand
\nplan<\/p>\n

(edgewood NM 4.16)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 16, 2019 at 10:20 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/p>\n

urgency <\/strong>
\nscanning for key words
\nin speech resembling knowledge
\nmeanwhile; the world burns<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 16, 2019 at 7:37 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

exhaustion <\/strong>
\neyes fall shut
\nlike a curtain of
\nsummer rain
\nso suddenly
\nyou can almost
\nhear the thud
\nof lashes against
\nyour cheeks or
\nmaybe that sound
\nwas your brain
\nshutting down
\nthere is a whole
\nworld out there
\nthat thought alone
\nis enough to start
\nyou crying when
\nyou are so tired
\nyou start to forget
\nall the things you
\nfight to remember
\nto keep your
\nheart and your brain
\nfrom running away<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 16, 2019 at 7:24 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

he takes her by the hand and leads her into the castle, the others follow<\/strong>
\nSuck the mystery out of me
\nthrough your clammy clasped
\nhands<\/p>\n

and lead me to the perfumed shore
\nof your secrets<\/p>\n

that long gray hallway
\nI linger in and pass through<\/p>\n

from silence into silent silence<\/p>\n

stop
\nlook
\nlisten
\nnow we are on the mezzanine
\nnow my heart has two chambers.<\/p>\n

Rub hot honey on my shoulders
\ncure my keratosis
\nand smother my feet
\nin false blossoms.<\/p>\n

From the top of your neck
\nthe skyline looks quite like a cage<\/p>\n

and I\u2019ve heard that from within a cage
\nthere is quite a lot to see
\nregarding the painful goings on
\nof this arid world<\/p>\n

and I linger long in the depths
\npinned down by my own will<\/p>\n

until I reach a fetid threshold
\nthat has been stuck closed so long
\nit becomes a wall.<\/p>\n

Take me by the hand
\nlead me through the door
\ndo not fall.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 16, 2019 at 5:01 PM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Inyan Bostada I<\/strong>
\nto be from
\nto be of
\nthere’s a rock in the back
\nbetween the vermillion (vernacu-
\nlar) and the Lahontan river.<\/p>\n

it was taller before Saturday,
\nnow the trees have grown up
\naround the pit where its tip
\ndis integrated<\/p>\n

the shallow sea and and what
\nremains in marks of the
\npicknickers of the 17th C
\nbottles and initials i’m
\nlooking for a relief but<\/p>\n

can’t recognize what came
\nwith the moraines you used
\nto be able to see
\nit from miles away rock
\nstanding on the end
\nof the prairie.<\/p>\n

I was born in the elbow of
\nthe cannon and the water in
\nme is what takes first the
\nname and then the shape<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 16, 2019 at 12:23 AM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

A moment I forget sometimes<\/strong>
\nThe month when
\nMen with guns
\nWanted the house.
\nStaring at us as we drove home from school.
\nWe locked, double locked
\nAnd pressed our bodies one with the walls.
\nWalls are no match for stares.
\nMom sometimes cried
\nAnd dad got hit with a shovel.
\nI slept with a thrill of fear
\nRacing up my spine.
\nBut woke floating in a room of gold.
\nAnd dressed myself in the slip of the mirror.<\/p>\n

I turned to meet
\nMan eyes
\nOutside my window.
\nGuarding our mortal grounds
\nThe security man standing sentinel.
\nWatching over the house.
\nWatching me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 10:48 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

early summer <\/strong>
\nthe wildflower game
\nin texas
\nis fierce<\/p>\n

bursting through crevices
\nbarricading
\nfrom both sides<\/p>\n

spiraling
\neyeing passersby
\nat concerning height<\/p>\n

fizzing with nectar-
\nfilled
\nbumbles<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 6:03 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

TOY STORY 5: LOST IN NEW YORK <\/strong>
\ni.
\nTo the toy pony
\nin your trash cage
\non the corner of
\n6th and White St:
\nWhy?<\/p>\n

ii.
\nEXT. CORNER OF 6TH AND WHITE – DAY<\/p>\n

On a street corner in New York, a toy pony\u2014just a little small for a child to ride, fragile in a way that makes it look like it\u2019s not designed for child\u2019s play at all\u2014 rests in public trash bin.<\/p>\n

PONY<\/p>\n

I bet you\u2019re wondering how I ended up here?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 5:15 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

When will the body cease
\nAnd the mind begin to bend
\nThe elbows and knees
\nWere made for this<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 5:12 PM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Making Water <\/strong>
\nwe go together
\nlike urine and porcelain
\nholding each other<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 5:03 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

afterbirth <\/strong>
\n(after Gabriel Coleman)<\/p>\n

spring rumbles from within
\na desiccated womb
\nsuddenly uncaged
\nfrom winter\u2019s frigidity<\/p>\n

it breaks yoke
\nwailing with bloodless cacophony
\nsoaked in amnii
\nsmacked with a cedar branch<\/p>\n

and left to wallow in its own afterbirth
\n(spring does not get cleaned)<\/p>\n

spring shall I compare thee
\nto the festering ginkgo tree
\nthat flowers in flagrance<\/p>\n

and stains the sidewalk with a mixture
\nof squashed blossoms
\nand mushed mulch
\nand streaked bird embryo,<\/p>\n

this feels springier
\nthan a sudden
\nburst
\nof seminal scent.<\/p>\n

blossoms are nicer ways
\nto ruminated on
\nmessy painful difficult
\nbloody
\nmasses that writhe
\nfrom out of the most wretched depths
\nof the underworld<\/p>\n

To dawn again
\nwhen the kidnapping winter
\nlays his sword down:<\/p>\n

Persephone coming home
\nand lingering in the threshold
\nfearing that her mother\u2019s fortune at seeing her
\nwill be replaced by mere admonishing
\nfit for a goddess
\n\u201cthis is why I tell you not to go along
\nwith boys like that!\u201d<\/p>\n

and just as spring comes out
\nfrom the depths of hell
\nso too does Dante fumble in the black night
\nafter climbing down Lucifer\u2019s ass<\/p>\n

how the last interesting passage
\nof the divine comedy
\nis about how i can see the stars
\nand not about what satan\u2019s leg hair
\nsmelled like<\/p>\n

and I am confused
\nby the phenomenon of starlight<\/p>\n

light of the stars
\nthat does not move<\/p>\n

a thousand blooming fallacies
\nbooming in the air off the river<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 12:58 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 12<\/strong>
\nvoltage<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2014poppy seeds. she lays there, sullen and sick of the warmth.
\na breeze bringing the scent of the sawmill\u2014never mind the noise\u2026
\noh, that racket was hard to ignore. i asked\u2014with a definitive tone, of course\u2014
\nwhat might be bothering her. she let the wind speak for itself. we walked down
\nthe quay later that evening, when the cedar in the air was replaced by salt.
\nwhere begin, where end. i awoke in the back seat of the station wagon on the
\nway back inland through the hills. i glanced across the darkness to see a dim
\nbarn light\u2014reminding me of viewing the substation outside of the cafe\u2014the hum
\nthat was difficult to ignore when it was late and the patrons had gone home. and
\nyet, my vigilance would be short lasted and like the morning of my old age i was
\nno longer fixed to the grounding\u2014no longer among the crowds contesting the image of god
\n\u2014and yet between youth and bedtime i feel the cold wind every once and awhile<\/p>\n

he came to the end of the trail, out on the far reaches of the prairie late in the evening. a stranger in this place, he followed the hedgerow of scrub until he came upon a light hanging
\nfar in the distance spanning a gate to the pasture. he looks around the treeless expanse
\nlooking for the portal, turns to the sky, and walks through the gate. what seems like hours, yet the moon hangs in its position still, the rough path giving way to open grass, untrampled by the feet of others\u2014fresh in its newness, purplish in the moonlight. the land between him and his long abandoned truck, the land between his truck and his long abandoned home\u2014how much further must one persist? and in the disappearance of time, the moon skewered above
\nunmoving, the footfalls on the rolling silent hills, growing tired. a warmth and then a low
\nbuzz. vibration in the lungs moving to the crown. the sun, a light, is rising. eyes blind,
\nsomehow. the mine is collapsing\u2014the workers safe at home. just me now. the moon has
\ndisappeared. a swirling hole in the sky. teeth smiling lie beyond. over the plains. cold. singing a forgotten song. a spark lighting my cornea. waves of gravity. no more space. the purest no.<\/p>\n

loveliness, only seen for a moment barely awake\u2014in the vapor of a fleeting mathematics.
\nunder the blanket in january, clouds of rosemary bubbling, sleet on the wooden siding. she calls from the neighboring room. another world, yet. another pasture, yet.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 10:57 AM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 15 <\/strong>
\nAll artists steal no
\nidea is a new one
\nAnd yet and yet and<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 15, 2019 at 2:09 AM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

The healing properties of tea <\/strong>
\nTea
\nCan heal
\nA snowball to the face.
\nA strawberry hangover.
\nA tearstained breakup
\nA frustrating piece of arithmetic
\nSmoothed crumples
\nWith chamomile and mint
\nRose and bergamot
\nHoney and ginger
\nFire and water.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019, 10:03 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

can a poem
\nbe sexy
\nlike a song?<\/p>\n

(edgewood NM, 4.14)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019 at 8:58 PM Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

TONIGHT<\/strong> everyone is making
\nnonverbal mouth sounds
\nexcept for the man on the train
\ngiving directions and the woman
\nto whom he is talking.<\/p>\n

Voices rise in a wavering
\nchorus around me, everyone
\nhas something to cry out for
\nit seems, while the the man
\nand woman go back and<\/p>\n

fourth: \u201cis this train going to
\n14th St?\u201d and \u201clemme call you
\nback when I get to Fulton,\u201d
\nand the work lights between
\nstations bounce around the car.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019 at 10:18 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 14 <\/strong>
\nWhen is good enough
\nenough and when is it not
\nAnd when is it not<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019 at 6:23 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 11<\/strong>
\ntuesday, uh<\/em><\/p>\n

cool vibes man
\ncool vibes bro
\ncool vibes dude
\ncool vibes broseph<\/p>\n

my bro plays in a band, dude
\nmy bro is an entrepreneur, dude-o
\nmy bro lives in the city, my dudest
\nmy bro is a backpacker, my bro-dude<\/p>\n

woah man, not cool!
\nwoah dude, bad vibes!
\nwoah my bro, chill out!
\nwoah my broseph, take a chill pill!<\/p>\n

cool vape trick!
\nthis vape is awesome!
\ncool vape yo!<\/p>\n

tonight’s gonna\u2014
\nuhh<\/p>\n

literally\u2026
\nuhm<\/p>\n

…eh
\nhmoof\u2026<\/p>\n

uh, yeah ok\u2014
\n\u2026<\/p>\n

like, uh\u2026
\n\u2014fuck yeah, down on like\u2026<\/p>\n

sure dude uh\u2026<\/p>\n

\u2026<\/p>\n

\u2026<\/p>\n

!<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019 at 4:42 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

the art of conversation <\/strong>
\nsend a
\nbig blue
\nbox<\/p>\n

of mostly
\nunsolicited
\nadvice<\/p>\n

immediately
\nworry that you
\nwere too much<\/p>\n

send a gif
\nto lighten
\nthe mood<\/p>\n

no reply\u2014
\nfollow up
\nin an hour<\/p>\n

later receive
\nan update
\n(unrelated)<\/p>\n

\/<\/p>\n

maybe
\nlove nowadays
\nis defined<\/p>\n

by the benefit
\nof the doubt
\nand forgiveness<\/p>\n

and letting
\nthings go
\nnot people<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019 at 4:38 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

leisure time? <\/strong>
\na free day carries
\npossibilities
\nof debilitating
\nvastness<\/p>\n

so much
\nto
\nsay
\nwrite
\nexperience
\nread
\nthink
\ndiscover
\nplan
\nattempt<\/p>\n

yet maybe
\na success
\nis as simple as
\nthat flake
\nof dough<\/p>\n

caressed by the breeze
\nswiftly
\ntaking flight
\nlanding
\nin the mouth
\nof a young
\npeckish
\ngrackle.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 14, 2019 at 12:12 AM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

snow on the ground\/ and
\ntime moves backwards so i can
\nhave all the seasons<\/p>\n

(edgewood NM 4.13)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 13, 2019 at 9:44 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 12 & 13 <\/strong>
\nFood is hard these days
\nI worry for my self
\nInner\/outer, which?<\/p>\n

Frippery glitzy
\nglam is not my middle name
\nBut I love to fake.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 13, 2019 at 6:50 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Two people flirting at the concert<\/strong>
\nHis sips slip between cracked lips
\nHis teeth click and his eye dims
\nA snarl creeps
\n(I can tell he’s a prick)
\nHe leans in a bit and she looks hesitant.<\/p>\n

But his muscles are cream,
\nAnd she wants something bad.
\nAnd they have a great night.
\nHe is gentle, and she likes that.
\nIn the slim hours early she slips out to the stairs
\nAnd facetimes her mom
\nAnd they laugh til she tears.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 13, 2019 at 11:55 AM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Ode to the Blooming Linden Tree <\/strong>
\nSpring is often said to be a very sexy season
\nwhen the buds and bees and bunnies all prepare for fornication.
\nThough as humans we see frivolousness as below our station
\nwe are annually humbled by the flowers of the linden:<\/p>\n

for the linden tree reminds us through it\u2019s close approximation
\nthat plants and animals alike find pleasure in the season
\nand that all of us are bound by that ejaculate connection
\nfor the scent of blooming linden is akin to human semen.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 13, 2019 at 7:10 AM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

They Said They Knew I’d Be Fine <\/strong>
\n(cw: abuse?)<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a pounding<\/p>\n

coming from the room next door\u2014<\/p>\n

and it goes on for hours.<\/p>\n

Then there is yelling,<\/p>\n

and door slamming,<\/p>\n

and someone threatening<\/p>\n

to call the police<\/p>\n

(They never do).<\/p>\n

Except now the someone<\/p>\n

is me, and the threats<\/p>\n

are more like<\/p>\n

quiet fantasies<\/p>\n

that things could<\/p>\n

reach their breaking point,<\/p>\n

just so they could break<\/p>\n

enough to fix them.<\/p>\n

I thought that I\u2019d be older now,<\/p>\n

but I\u2019m still so easily trapped,<\/p>\n

so easily… durable…<\/p>\n

At least I don\u2019t keep secrets now\u2014<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t owe anyone anything.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll tell anyone anything,<\/p>\n

although usually like a joke,<\/p>\n

usually where my trauma<\/p>\n

is the punchline.<\/p>\n

But I\u2019m still here. I\u2019m still<\/p>\n

eight, twelve, sixteen years old.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m still praying<\/p>\n

for the night to end.<\/p>\n

I thought that I\u2019d be older now,<\/p>\n

but where am I going to go<\/p>\n

on a night like this?<\/p>\n

I could have always<\/p>\n

walked out. I could have always<\/p>\n

called for help.<\/p>\n

But I never did.<\/p>\n

And I don\u2019t now.<\/p>\n

Twenty-three years and I know<\/p>\n

that the morning<\/p>\n

will always come.<\/p>\n

That the night<\/p>\n

won\u2019t really be sleepless,<\/p>\n

and the sun will rise,<\/p>\n

and the world will be quiet,<\/p>\n

save for the lull of traffic<\/p>\n

and birds who sing.<\/p>\n

And then I can get back<\/p>\n

to telling myself<\/p>\n

that it\u2019s not that bad.<\/p>\n

Then I can get back<\/p>\n

to telling myself<\/p>\n

that it\u2019s over.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 13, 2019 at 00:45 Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

it\u2019s not the altitude
\nbut the latitude<\/p>\n

i forgot where i was today<\/p>\n

there was only tahini
\nfrom israel
\nin the supermarket<\/p>\n

but four kinds of
\nflavored gluten-free
\nchips<\/p>\n

when i wake up in the morning i have to breathe deeply and imagine my feet landing back down on the earth, bare feet on this rocky green planet, remind myself that this is my country and this is my mother tongue. when i wake up in the morning i have to shake myself loose from the dream of floating, from the dream of moving seamlessly between worlds. when i wake up in the morning i remember that i cannot forget the big sky and deep valleys and smoggy cities and dirty water and beautiful people and fresh fruit that held me while i looked for myself, searched in the vulnerability of being far away.<\/p>\n

when i wake up in the morning and find breath stuck in my chest, it\u2019s not the altitude.<\/p>\n

(edgewood NM, 4.12)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019 at 11:53 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

i still get giddy
\nabout cheesy love stories
\nMove On\/For today<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019 at 11:05 PM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Midday on 20th<\/strong>
\nIf I lived on this block
\non days like today I would
\nhold a cookout for all the neighbors
\nand the dog walkers and the people
\npassing by that would stretch
\nfrom the front stoop to the
\nback garden<\/p>\n

everyone with plates
\nof potato salad and vegan
\nbratwurst crouching on the steps
\nand the paving stones<\/p>\n

If I lived on this block
\non days like today I would
\nopen all of the windows and
\ndoors to let the moist wind spiral
\nup the stairwell, tickling
\nthe leaves of the plants
\non the countertop<\/p>\n

and ruffling the hair of
\nthe sleepers on the
\ntopmost floor<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019 at 6:40 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

rising sun<\/strong>
\nthe outlook
\ncan feel
\nhopeless<\/p>\n

participants
\noften seem
\npowerless;<\/p>\n

gathering
\nfor the first time
\nin solidarity<\/p>\n

in hope
\nbut
\nwith fear<\/p>\n

how validating
\nhow intensely
\ncomforting<\/p>\n

to know
\nsharing fear
\ncauses
\nhope?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019 at 4:27 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

I’m farther from the future.<\/p>\n

The last fortnight flew from my fingers<\/p>\n

Replaced by a new friend.<\/p>\n

I follow chains on wheels
\nAnd frames that feel
\nA little too short for my forearms.
\nI’m always replying
\n“I’m going but I don’t know when”
\nWith my hand around yours
\nI feel limitless.
\nClose to the clock,
\nAnd farther from the future
\nThan I have in a while.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019, 2:14 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 10<\/strong>
\nchrysanthemum<\/em><\/p>\n

it was the dust from the porch
\nchrysanthemum under the sprinklers
\ngreenest grass, across the road
\nbluffs above the houses
\ntreeless street with cracked sidewalks<\/p>\n

the park flooded and grandma showed me the pictures<\/p>\n

i live next to a different river now
\nstill grey in the month of april
\nupstream from the city
\nthe smell of dirt and a cool wind
\nthe sound of bells across the valley<\/p>\n

soon i too will be filling sandbags to halt the river<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019 at 1:13 AM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

map spread out
\nwe traced routes
\nfrom past and
\nfor future<\/p>\n

I tried to picture myself:
\noklahoma
\narkansas
\nmissouri
\nand<\/p>\n

alone on the road
\nclutch down
\nease into first<\/p>\n

don\u2019t jump ahead
\ntoo fast
\nor you\u2019ll stall<\/p>\n

(edgewood, NM 4.11)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 12, 2019 at 12:38 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

evening collections: the non-rhotic and erotic<\/strong>
\nHow fortunate am I
\nthat I may walk through the hand beaded
\nand the tulle pleated
\nto feel like raffia<\/p>\n

to walk amongst the gardens of organza
\nand finer fabrics whose names I do not know yet<\/p>\n

I may glide through the aisles
\nguiding my hand with the same way
\nI guide my speech
\n(my sister told me last night
\nthat New Mexicans don\u2019t pronounce
\nthe ends of their words,
\nso between the racks I spit every T
\nroll out all of my Ns
\nand hammer all of my Gs)<\/p>\n

I can do all of this
\nunmolested
\nonly buckling behind a shivering state
\nwhen I lock eyes with a guard
\nor man in a suit
\nand my hurried smile is returned
\nwith a cold confusion.<\/p>\n

And amongst the cushiony silence
\nall these high prices make sense:<\/p>\n

Georgina\u2019s collection
\ngoing for five seven then five
\nthousands of dollars
\nearning her money back
\nin the shadow of debilitating scandal<\/p>\n

Mark works through the night
\nto parade work through
\nan empty hall choked with
\nair and hushed wood<\/p>\n

the ghost of John, Lee, and Alber\u2019s hands
\nshake when I lift a beaded sleeve<\/p>\n

that weighs as much as my bag.<\/p>\n

And this weighs on my head
\nin thinking about why there are so few people here
\nin the evening collections.<\/p>\n

We forget how to dream
\nwe fear our dreams while they turn into nightmares
\ninto vast sums of money
\ninto a delineation between off the rack
\nand custom
\nand made to order<\/p>\n

and I\u2019m fortunate no one has followed
\nme
\naround the store yet<\/p>\n

but I swear to god I can feel it on the back of my neck.<\/p>\n

I am thinking about the anthropological study
\nabout the famous New York non rhotic
\nR<\/p>\n

how stores like Saks and Bergdorf
\nhit the R hard when they say fouRth flooR
\nand lower rung department stores like Klein\u2019s
\ndrop into fowth flow-uh.<\/p>\n

and I wonder how much the stewards
\nand stoic wardens of the evening collection make
\nand I wonder what is behind the smile
\nof the woman who sits stridently
\nat a desk that radiates with implied cordiality<\/p>\n

where does she live
\nhow much is she paid to sit and smile.<\/p>\n

I am lucky and unlucky in strolling
\nbetween beaded hands and an idle man
\nturned steadfast and fierce
\nif I linger my gaze, speech, tongue, money, history
\non a gown that won\u2019t fit and won\u2019t do.<\/p>\n

I am fortunate to parade through silence
\nunmolested
\nas I take the escalator from the fourth floor
\nto the fowath flow-uh.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019 at 11:35 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

chained action<\/strong><\/p>\n

it\u2019s supposed to be very nice this weekend<\/p>\n

a sand colored cat crossed my path
\nNapoleon blew the nose off of the Sphinx
\nIn rank imperialism
\ndrunk off of his lack of lineage<\/p>\n

the white heart of a tomato
\ngrimaces on the horizon line
\nof the east<\/p>\n

it was colder than anticipated today<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019 at 11:33 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 11<\/strong>
\nEveryone needs things
\nNo vacuum to suck us dry
\nFull, swollen, present.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 11, 2019, at 7:50 PM, Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Fascinator hats<\/strong><\/p>\n

Could smell like nail polish<\/p>\n

With fishnets<\/p>\n

And dragonflies.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019, 3:38 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

No Strings on Me<\/strong>
\nI\u2019ve spent most of my life<\/p>\n

trying not to make<\/p>\n

other people<\/p>\n

uncomfortable<\/p>\n

with my body.<\/p>\n

That doesn\u2019t appear<\/p>\n

to be changing<\/p>\n

anytime now.<\/p>\n

If anything,<\/p>\n

the stakes are higher.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m falling asleep on the train.<\/p>\n

What do I look like<\/p>\n

falling asleep on the train?<\/p>\n

I\u2019m sitting in a cafe.<\/p>\n

What do I look like<\/p>\n

sitting in a cafe?<\/p>\n

I\u2019m sitting here<\/p>\n

thinking about all the things<\/p>\n

I\u2019d like to be.<\/p>\n

What do I look like<\/p>\n

to you?<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t understand<\/p>\n

how you decide<\/p>\n

who I am.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never felt<\/p>\n

like any of the words<\/p>\n

that you\u2019ve called me.<\/p>\n

My body feels crumpled,<\/p>\n

like a marionette<\/p>\n

without a puppeteer.<\/p>\n

A Pinocchio<\/p>\n

that can\u2019t lie<\/p>\n

because he doesn\u2019t<\/p>\n

know the truth.<\/p>\n

Have you seen me<\/p>\n

recently?<\/p>\n

I\u2019m starting to feel<\/p>\n

like I\u2019m doing my best<\/p>\n

impression of myself.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m trying to carry myself<\/p>\n

like I own the place.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m starting to feel<\/p>\n

like this is some kind<\/p>\n

of radical personhood.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019 at 3:54 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 9<\/strong>
\nchorus<\/em><\/p>\n

we speak but our voices remain quiet<\/p>\n

mother shapes a new vase on a saturday afternoon
\nfather plays a tune on the organ
\nnonetheless moving the air with feeling
\nwith no one to hear it<\/p>\n

the streets outside absent
\nsuburban lights flickering
\ngod died long ago
\nthe people left
\nallured by the gravity of certain zip codes
\nthe question remaining:
\nwas it or was it not their choice?<\/p>\n

across the divide, a hole opens
\nthousands fall inward
\ncities sinking
\nearth crumbling<\/p>\n

on the other side
\na new road begins<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019 at 1:10 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

an ode to the patch of no hair on my left leg<\/strong>
\nthere\u2019s a patch on my left leg with no hair
\nthat patch reminds me of how much I used to hate my body
\nnot embracing the femme-ness of my body
\nbelieving Hair is Masculine and not Femme<\/p>\n

every morning i wake up and run my hand along that patch<\/p>\n

to remind me of where i came from
\nto remind me of how far i have come
\nto remind me of how far i have to go<\/p>\n

in Loving my Body for all that It is<\/p>\n

that patch gives me strength and courage
\nto live a fuller, expressive life
\nto be more me
\nand to be proud of that!<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019 at 11:27 AM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

you probably don’t need this right now but<\/strong>
\nhere is the map:
\nsome scratching along
\na flat place between
\nthe slope of the hill
\nand the bank of the river<\/p>\n

did i ever say that i<\/p>\n

these textures
\nmean the damp
\nspring breeze, how the air
\nmade the barometer feel
\nthat morning we went down
\nearly for a bagel<\/p>\n

loved you ? did i even<\/p>\n

here is the street where
\nthe car door finally broke
\nand the footprint of
\nthe building
\nwhere you let me stay
\nthat night and even the time
\ni was feverish and snored<\/p>\n

feel it until we stopped<\/p>\n

here is green tea with honey on snelling avenue and all the places
\nalong 394 where your car complained about stopping too fast and
\nthis shows the shape that isn’t the shadow of the elephant ear
\nor the glow from the grow light but something else entirely<\/p>\n

dreaming ? did i break<\/p>\n

these are the kitchens:
\nthe one where i roasted plantains
\nwe had foraged outside your work
\nthe one where i laid down on the floor
\nand you roasted potatoes
\nand the one where we made lentils
\nwith cinnamon<\/p>\n

your heart when i<\/p>\n

this line is the route where we ran
\nand afterwards both felt broken
\nhere is where my bike route and
\nyour drive converged to eat ramen
\nand sit in your car<\/p>\n

left did i break mine ?<\/p>\n

more than two years tucked into
\nheres and theres – the angle
\nbetween the sidewalk and the wall
\ncollapes into points and
\nlines and polygons<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 11, 2019 at 12:16 AM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

sometimes when I look at her,
\nI see my mama
\nand it feels like home<\/p>\n

in this house I haven\u2019t seen for
\nten years:
\npictures of baby me on the wall<\/p>\n

she takes me out
\nto check the water pump
\nexplains how to work
\nthe wood stove<\/p>\n

these are timeless facts
\nshared almost
\nin passing<\/p>\n

but for the manila envelope
\nsitting on the office desk<\/p>\n

this is my will, she says.
\nI\u2019ll send you a copy.<\/p>\n

(edgewood, new mexico 4.10)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 11:50 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 10<\/strong>
\nBeethoven knew: fire
\nin your belly does not mean
\nHappy sane healthy<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 10:53 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

return high <\/strong>
\nwhat does the music of the spheres
\nsmell like
\nis it that same sensation
\nas a well purified
\nroomful of air?<\/p>\n

The faint phantom rumble of a broken escalator
\nferrying ghosts
\nfrom the pit to the mezzanine?<\/p>\n

perhaps the smell of post tongued
\nstone<\/p>\n

wet and warm,<\/p>\n

or a skylight on a cloudy day<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 10:49 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

A stare <\/strong>
\nCan say a lot of things.<\/p>\n

I love you<\/p>\n

I feel you<\/p>\n

I judge you<\/p>\n

I’m here for you<\/p>\n

I think you are beautiful<\/p>\n

I think the sunset is beautiful<\/p>\n

I need to pee<\/p>\n

I wish I could take your fear away but I can’t<\/p>\n

But mostly<\/p>\n

I love you<\/p>\n

I love you<\/p>\n

I love you<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 10:18 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

I am trying too hard to be new.
\nI have forgotten everything about the former life. And yet the fragments rise, bile in my mouth every morning as I struggle to swallow my pills: remember you used to dance? And the knees frantically whisper back, we remember, but we are tired. I shush them violently as I lunge to the toilet, try to cough up whatever vomit I can.
\nA store window today reminded me that I wore heels once, effortlessly.
\nI am trying too hard to be new, sneakers scuffed.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Apr 10, 2019, at 7:52 PM, Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

sometimes I read the news
\nand my head
\ndoes a heavy somersault
\ninto my neck
\nimploding, slowly
\nthe future
\nblurring
\ninto nothingness<\/p>\n

but at least
\nnow
\nthere\u2019s photographic proof
\nof what was once
\nthought unseeable<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 12:02 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Spring Cleaning <\/strong>
\nI\u2019ve given myself a mission<\/p>\n

to do all of my dirty laundry.<\/p>\n

It is spring now, and my<\/p>\n

warm weather clothes have<\/p>\n

been in the hamper for nearly<\/p>\n

six months. This winter<\/p>\n

was short but strange, and I<\/p>\n

will not survive the summer<\/p>\n

heat in my protective layers.<\/p>\n

Three loads down and the<\/p>\n

kitten bats at my feet from<\/p>\n

under the bed as I fold.<\/p>\n

It is appropriate to sometimes<\/p>\n

reach down and ruffle the<\/p>\n

bed skirt while chattering<\/p>\n

until bright eyes stare back<\/p>\n

at you and there\u2019s a small<\/p>\n

squeak. Sometimes, she\u2019ll<\/p>\n

try and scale the bedsheets,<\/p>\n

but her claws catch and she<\/p>\n

aborts, falling onto her back.<\/p>\n

She tries again. It is essential<\/p>\n

to keep her off the bed until<\/p>\n

all the laundry is folded and<\/p>\n

away. You scoop her up and<\/p>\n

toss her into the mountain of<\/p>\n

still dirty laundry and she<\/p>\n

somersaults down the side<\/p>\n

of the pile. Imagine being only<\/p>\n

nine weeks old and a kitten.<\/p>\n

Imagine knowing nothing,<\/p>\n

barely even your own body,<\/p>\n

barely even how to land<\/p>\n

on your feet.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 8:33 AM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Rooms in Rowhouses <\/strong>
\nhaving done something i begin
\nto shrink back in to my self
\nwearing whatever clothes – this sweater
\nthat i like<\/p>\n

the plans that we made, they
\nhave changed but they have changed
\nus in kind<\/p>\n

silhouetted against the curtain
\na dog waits patiently, intently
\nand we are wet – hair matted back<\/p>\n

radiator breath hot
\nand hissing in my ear<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 12:52 AM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

life keeps happening
\nand so does death and we
\nmust participate<\/p>\n

(haiku for richard carboni)<\/p>\n

(albuquerque, nm 4.9)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 10, 2019 at 11:30 AM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyc.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

break<\/strong>
\nit feels like i should have something to say
\nBut i don\u2019t
\nNor do i want to<\/p>\n

i want a break<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 9:59 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

we knew how
\nto get under
\neach other’s skin<\/p>\n

she admits<\/p>\n

young minds
\nmining feuds
\nfood for quarrels<\/p>\n

she says<\/p>\n

with anger
\nyou’re getting it wrong now
\ni’m not attacking you
\nyou don’t know
\nanymore<\/p>\n

and all i can think<\/p>\n

is<\/p>\n

remember when we
\nused to run
\nchasing around
\nthe honeysuckle bush
\nharmonizing above
\nthe rise and fall
\nof summer cicadas<\/p>\n

muddying our floral
\ncotton dresses
\nin her backyard
\njust us two
\nus and
\nthe adults<\/p>\n

racing up the porch
\nsteps
\nreturning
\nwith dirt and grins
\nfor strawberry shortcake
\ncool and sweet<\/p>\n

your eyes
\nso much like mine
\nyour features
\nmore refined
\nyour anger
\nhotter
\nsparking
\nswift
\nnostrils flaring<\/p>\n

like mine<\/p>\n

in hushed control
\nStop.<\/p>\n

i’ve been thinking a lot
\nabout defense mechanisms
\nhers
\nand mine
\nand ginger’s –<\/p>\n

the new rescue<\/p>\n

dog<\/p>\n

we just met
\nand
\nshe cowers in fear
\naround me<\/p>\n

we’re friends
\ni insist, holding out
\na hand
\nin peace<\/p>\n

i might look and smell
\nlike the girl who
\ncaused you this pain<\/p>\n

but i promise
\ni am not the same
\nlet down
\nyour guard<\/p>\n

i won’t hurt you.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 9:27 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyc.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Time to Sleep<\/strong>
\ni’m tired today
\ni’m tired of sharing
\ni’m tired of feeling like i have to prove my existence
\ni’m tired about writing about it
\ni’m tired<\/p>\n

Time to Sleep<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 7:51 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 9<\/strong>
\nDecisions are the
\nBane of my existence ugh
\nSent from my iPhone<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 6:36 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Sometimes<\/strong>
\nI want to write a poem
\nwithout any of me in it.<\/p>\n

Or maybe what I mean
\nis too much of me in it\u2014<\/p>\n

a collection of hyper-
\nspecific images and<\/p>\n

feelings that sound
\nbeautiful but don\u2019t<\/p>\n

mean much of anything
\nto anyone but me,<\/p>\n

a poem that could mean
\nanything to you<\/p>\n

and make you want to
\nknow my truth. But then,<\/p>\n

one time I wrote a poem
\nthat said I wanted<\/p>\n

nothing more than to
\nbare my soul so that<\/p>\n

everyone could know
\nand I think that is the<\/p>\n

voice I\u2019ve been given.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 4:30 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

At a cafe when a fire starts<\/strong>
\nOn a beautiful day.
\nSky as clear as the cafe’s pastry glass.
\nLayers of Graham cracker hazelnut nougat and warm caramel.
\nAtop teetering stool I perch.
\nSun is gleaming,
\nglinting off the eggwashed shortcrust.
\nPiano is playing,
\nPlinking from the open window.
\nSteam is drifting,
\ndrifting up from the clinking cup.<\/p>\n

Snap of a crackling gingersnap.<\/p>\n

Kindling takes to spark
\nRushing, raging, growing.
\nRising like bread in warmth.<\/p>\n

Heat,
\nHot acrid burnt beans
\nBurnt tongue on hints of nuttiness.
\nPuff pastry pockets of air
\n(Watch carefully).
\nDelicate as fragments of gold leaf
\nFluttering with every soft breathe…
\nFlecks of ash like birds,
\nSmoke takes half the sky.<\/p>\n

Fire raging behind bars
\nTurning cutouts to cookie,
\nCrescents to croissants.
\nFlames oozing
\nAcross porch and stair.
\nI stop and stare
\nForgetting my Danish in hand.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 10:35 AM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Body Betrayal<\/strong>
\nc\/w: bodily fluids and other gross things<\/em><\/p>\n

Head:
\nWhen I went to the dentist they showed me the yellow dentin pits I’m digging in my lower molars from grinding my teeth and now when I look in the mirror all I see is the sharp point on the edge of my right front tooth where my bottom tooth nests perfectly. I worry a lot, set my jaw, run my teeth back and forth across each other sympathetically when I slice bread or scrub the counter. My mouthpiece migrates to the right side of my face as my facial muscles overcompensate for lack of air and I get headaches when I squeeze the outside of my eyes to read the screen or when I think of what someone is thinking of me – if they can see the anxiety carved into my smile.<\/p>\n

Shoulders:
\nI’ve had this sore on my left shoulder for the past week and a half and today it decided to finally drain. Not the pus I’m used to from pimples but a bubble of thin yellow liquid held on the edge of my shoulder blade by surface tension – more liquid than you think could be sitting there just under your skin ready to drip slowly down my chest and back. I applied gentle pressure, coaxing it out of this new hole in my body until it ran clear, washed with soapy water and bandaged it. Under the band aid the sore is still an angry red a purple shadow underneath the center where it protrudes still very slightly from the plane of my shoulder. This release is not the ending.<\/p>\n

Knees:
\nCoach Mike says that I’m maybe pushing myself too fast, that my hamstrings are too tight, maybe that I should be doing more hip strengthening. When it starts to affect me I’m either too far out or already on my way back so I try to correct – anchor down through my core, lift my knees a little higher, follow through more completely, engage my hip flexors. I try to monitor the chain of support under every step, left ankle supporting right knee balancing out with left hip, the arms swing back in line with the hips, pushing the shoulders to oscillate in complement with the sweet twisting of the lower back and this one piece out of place – am I under or overpronating? Should I be striking more towards the ball or the midfoot? I can’t help but betray the twinge around my knee that tells me to stop and hope that somehow the way out is through.<\/p>\n

Toes:
\nI’m sitting in Baddha Konasana massaging the arches of my feet with my thumbs. I interlace my fingers with my toes, stretch and spread them and think about the spring when Taylor Heitman taught me to walk barefoot through the dark empty parking lot outside Buntrock, taking small steps on asphalt and then half walk half run down Thorson Hill through the cool wet grass on the fields, step carefully across the gravel on the sides of Greenvale Ave and over the concrete threshold into our house. The only time my feet have met New York was the first night I took myself out dancing in these heels and couldn’t bear the block-and-a-half walk home from the station.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 11:38 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

in the part of texas
\nthat feels like m\u00e9xico
\ni ate texmex<\/p>\n

i\u2019ve learned to say yes
\nwhen people suggest
\nwhat i should order<\/p>\n

i want you to have what i like:
\na gesture across the border
\nof social roles<\/p>\n

she called me honey
\nand asked if i liked the nachos
\nwe\u2019re famous for them,
\nshe\u2019d said, gel nail
\non the plastic menu<\/p>\n

i walked across a bridge today
\nit spanned a dry river
\ncalled the rio grande<\/p>\n

crossing a border
\nof political shapes
\ndrawn on the land<\/p>\n

on this side i paid in dollars
\nbut i spoke in spanish
\ni want you to have
\nwhat i have<\/p>\n

(el paso\/juarez, 4.8)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 11:20 AM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 8<\/strong>
\ngrounding<\/em><\/p>\n

now is the time
\nhere is the place<\/p>\n

don’t forget to bring
\neverything you had to remember<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 10:38 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

you will<\/strong>
\ni want to tell you everything that is wrong right now<\/p>\n

or rather everything that feels wrong right now
\nor why i don’t feel worthy<\/p>\n

i want to tell you everything that i want to fix about myself<\/p>\n

but then
\nthere is nothing to fix
\nor rather there should be nothing to fix<\/p>\n

but there is
\neven if i choose to ignore it
\nor try to believe that everything is right the way it is<\/p>\n

today has been a hard day
\nand i just need you to tell me<\/p>\n

you will be alright
\nyou have all the Tools you Need
\nyou have made it through this before
\nyou can do it again
\nand
\nagain
\nand<\/p>\n

again<\/p>\n

even though you should not have to<\/p>\n

you can<\/p>\n

and<\/p>\n

you will<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 10:29 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Combing my hair<\/strong>
\nThe barber asked me to tell her if it hurt
\nThe thin comb yanking through my thick thick thick
\n“Wow so thick!”
\nPalm sweating gripping the comb so tight
\n“Wow so beautiful!”
\nYank yank yank
\n“Does this hurt”<\/p>\n

When I was young
\nMy dad used to comb my hair
\nAnd I’d cry
\nActual tears leaking out my scalp.
\nSo much that my whole head would soon be sopping wet,
\nBut my scalp blazing fire<\/p>\n

So no
\nIt never hurts
\nIt will never hurt again<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 6:57 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

fragment <\/strong>
\nthe spring haze sets in like a coma
\ni cannot sleepwalk myself out of<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 4:51 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 8<\/strong>
\nThere are not enough
\ncolors in my palette to
\ndescribe what I taste<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 3:14 PM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

The Weather<\/strong>
\nNew York looks like the FIT kids all together all looking their best all standing or sitting along 27th.<\/p>\n

New York sounds like sirens (of course), the skateboard moving behind you and the helicopter above your head.<\/p>\n

New York looks the way the building you’ve only walked directly next to looks from across the street.<\/p>\n

New York smells like mulch, wet and wooden, and like dry rot if you are familiar with that smell.<\/p>\n

New York looks that way from the eighth floor.<\/p>\n

New York feels like three elderly people sitting on successive stoops, the ones you made eye contact with on the way.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 2:30 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

I wish I knew how to say thank you enough, do they understand the gratitude, I am trying to breathe through mucus and new drug regimens and I still cannot comprehend how the gentleness began so swift and has not faded.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 2:20 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 7<\/strong>
\n-\/-<\/em><\/p>\n

movement of the ground, not real
\n\u2014felt regardless
\nhaving had too much work to do
\nand too many worries for anyone\u2019s use<\/p>\n

blue water underneath the bridge
\nover the road, over the train tracks
\nwind along the alley
\nneon in the garden<\/p>\n

on the floor, muttering<\/p>\n

in the sky, sleeping<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 12:30 AM Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Run Behind<\/strong>
\nSo if this is the way it was going to be being
\nthen was there a kind of _______ waving just
\nbehind the folds and creases our bodies pressed
\ninto the space around us?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 12:06 AM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

cold breeze <\/strong>
\nbus graveyard<\/p>\n

two out of service buses
\nhover on the edge of the street<\/p>\n

shadows of humans
\nsway towards me
\ngive me pause
\ntake my tenderness<\/p>\n

I harden
\nagainst the brisk spring night<\/p>\n

in fear of the dark evening
\nretaliating<\/p>\n

against a mark
\nI thought not to be mine<\/p>\n

but the winds do shift
\nand even ghosts can nod<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 11:59 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Feel like floor<\/strong>
\nFeel like floor:<\/p>\n

Dust and hair.<\/p>\n

Snail trails on my face:<\/p>\n

tears.<\/p>\n

Onions and tea light:<\/p>\n

My dinner guests.<\/p>\n

I am sad because<\/p>\n

I am sad.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 11:42 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 7<\/strong>
\nWould rather watch Grey\u2019s
\nThan have sex with a str8 guy
\nMost days (like today)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 10:34 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

road <\/strong>
\n(slide the key in)<\/p>\n

gen z song in my head
\nmood swings on my brain<\/p>\n

withdrawing limb by limb
\nfrom an unidentifiable haze<\/p>\n

(engine turning over)<\/p>\n

saying goodbye again:
\nmore of a see you than a never.<\/p>\n

(shift)
\n(accelerate)<\/p>\n

on to the next.<\/p>\n

(chihuahua city 4.7)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 5:31 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

i found my light today<\/strong>
\ni breathed
\ni created
\ni danced
\ni found my light today<\/p>\n

in relation i found passion and joy for life
\nfor creating
\nfor being who i am
\nfor nurturing my body and what it is capable of
\nfor knowing my limits<\/p>\n

my possibilities
\nmy triggers
\nmy joys
\nmy personhood<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 5:18 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

waking in solitude
\nwalking in wet
\ncolor coaxed out
\nby persistent rains
\nivy-coated
\nbricks
\nfleur-de-lis
\nbright easter eggs
\nbetraying remnants
\nof morning drops<\/p>\n

then
\ntogether
\nthe setting is the same
\nthe characters in place
\nbut
\nthere is no script
\nfor this occasion
\nno holiday cheer
\nto acknowledge<\/p>\n

we hold glasses
\nconverse genially
\nlaugh genuinely<\/p>\n

but
\nthere is a gap
\na vacancy
\na character missing
\nfrom the scene<\/p>\n

so we raise toasts
\npass bottles
\nand photos
\nof past generations
\nreflected in caricature
\nin present iterations<\/p>\n

and finally
\nwe exchange flowers
\nshare words
\nbriefly<\/p>\n

if we are all together
\nto commemorate
\na matriarch passed
\nthen why does this loss
\nfeel so
\nalone<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 11:35 AM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Random Lists of Things<\/strong>
\n1.
\nFloral upholstery,
\nforeign language films,
\nindie theaters,
\nearly nights,
\nfamily meals,
\nIndian food,
\nbands that sound
\na bit like Queen,
\ndancing in crowds,
\nlong walks,
\ntelling myself
\nthat I am a certain
\nkind of person
\nbecause I like certain
\nthings.<\/p>\n

2.
\nBody modification,
\nbutton downs,
\ncurating a taste
\nfor beer and pop music,
\nspontaneity,
\nnail polish,
\nincense,
\nhooking up,
\nmarijuana,
\ncrafting,
\nrock climbing,
\nworrying I don\u2019t
\nlike enough things
\nto be a certain
\nkind of person.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 12:13 AM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Walking in Berkeley<\/strong>
\nShe said “breathe in something fresh and new”<\/p>\n

Can you imagine<\/p>\n

Produce stretching from red to brown<\/p>\n

And back again for the organic section?<\/p>\n

Bright eyes and sandy bums<\/p>\n

Buying cashews in bulk.<\/p>\n

Succulents bright<\/p>\n

Alongside cacti.<\/p>\n

Asphalt, clouds, and coriander.<\/p>\n

Slim houses with well work stoops,<\/p>\n

Smoke and spit, and dirty aprons hung up.<\/p>\n

She said “get your white ass out of here bitch!”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 10:13 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 6<\/strong>
\nI painted a room
\nWith a libertarian
\nIt wasn\u2019t awful.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 10:32 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

i have all the Tools i need
\ni have all the Tools i need
\ni have all the Tools i need<\/p>\n

i know because i used them today<\/p>\n

and felt my power<\/p>\n

not some cliched power
\nbut an actual power to define my worth and accept my emotions
\nto live in the present
\nAnd
\nTo
\nfind the Joy<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 9:37 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Fragment<\/strong>
\nenveloped by the dark coolness,
\ngritty wooden floors
\nbeneath my peeling feet,
\nthe hay fever high in my throat,
\nI swallow a strawberry.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 8:28 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

The body can do incredible things,<\/p>\n

like obey the mantra of \u201cplease<\/p>\n

don\u2019t throw up on the train, please don\u2019t<\/p>\n

throw up on the train,\u201d until<\/p>\n

you cross over the threshold of your<\/p>\n

apartment and begin to retch.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 17:56 Gabriel Coleman gcoleman.mn@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

is this how the Other Side feels? <\/strong>
\n1: love song
\ni rode
\nacross the
\nmanhattan
\nbridge this
\nmorning
\nwhich i
\nhadn\u2019t done
\nin a
\nwhile
\nand i
\nguess the
\nthing that
\ni\u2019ve been
\nthinking
\nabout
\nis if
\nwhen
\ni was little
\nand
\nstuck pebbles
\nup my nose
\none of them
\nstayed and
\npresses into
\nmy brain
\nblocking
\nme from
\nfeeling
\nthis too
\ndeeply.<\/p>\n

2 : bike lane
\ni love
\nhaving
\nthis space
\nwhere i
\ncan go
\nat my
\nown pace
\nso much
\nthat i
\nyell at anyone
\nthat
\ncrosses the
\nline and
\ngets in my
\nway.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 5:19 PM Travis Amiel txxxxx@travisamiel.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

i tried a poppers
\nto cure
\ncuriosity<\/p>\n

i sniffed
\ni inhaled<\/p>\n

and felt
\nflush,
\nand whelm<\/p>\n

not over
\nnot under<\/p>\n

haven\u2019t i sniffed
\nfor highs?<\/p>\n

nail polish remover
\nhand sanitizer
\nsharpies
\nyankee candles<\/p>\n

is it all
\nabout
\nthe butt<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 3:32 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

bunny <\/strong>
\n(after Alison Kobayashi)<\/p>\n

don\u2019t retune my wire
\nuntil I\u2019m re-recording<\/p>\n

isn\u2019t it funny how
\nwhen you\u2019re in front of the microphone
\nor behind the lens<\/p>\n

everything you wanted to say
\nsuddenly turns diaphanous<\/p>\n

I have so many words but
\ncan\u2019t seem to get them together<\/p>\n

let them simmer
\nburning my back<\/p>\n

while time two steps along<\/p>\n

only wait till I\u2019m found
\ndusty yet alive
\nin the back of the estate sale<\/p>\n

don\u2019t retune my wire
\njust say something<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 2:46 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

little purple flowers
\ntweezers and
\nkeys<\/p>\n

leftovers of a tired\/
\nhurried entrance
\nso late it was early<\/p>\n

i look down at my feet
\nand ask them where they\u2019ve been<\/p>\n

(mexico city 4.6)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019 at 12:17 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 6<\/strong>
\nthe magnet, dark hall<\/em><\/p>\n

seen through a crack in a dream
\nbeckoning from another world
\ncrying from across that expanse…<\/p>\n

we walked the street corners like everyone else\u2014
\nordering a soft drink at the counter
\nwarmest summer afternoon in a year
\nsleeping above the shops
\na flash in that corner of the sky
\nan unobserved mind
\nthe empty room<\/p>\n

they worked tirelessly\u2014
\npulling the fire through the ether
\n\u2014not once sensing the energy
\nthis brazen pursuit
\nthe seismographic consequence<\/p>\n

maybe we\u2019ll all wake\u2014
\ni\u2019ll find you in the corner booth
\nsitting on the naugahyde with the peeling brass
\neggs and toast in front
\nnothing outside for miles
\ntwo vectors meeting at a point
\nfinally, a rip in the world we know<\/p>\n

finally, the silence of life affirmed<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 11:48 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

My blue socks<\/strong>
\nMy blue socks are so gross and smelly yet
\nI love them even full of dirt and sweat<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 8:06 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

today
\nit rained<\/p>\n

someone suggested going
\nindoors<\/p>\n

the rain stopped
\nthat was all<\/p>\n

(mexico city 4.5)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 1:10 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 5<\/strong>
\nvitalism, metabolism<\/em><\/p>\n

shuddering, inhaling the wind
\ncomplete darkness, still-silence
\nrosemary, a rush of brightness
\nyour presence, fleeting then
\nneighbor\u2019s den, carpeting
\ntv dinner, running to
\nbasement toyroom, outside
\ncicadas, dandilion
\nmemory, memory<\/p>\n

one moment, different outcome
\na walk near the duck pond, october
\nripples in the water
\na distant creak in the woods
\nblinking
\nsensor damaged from the sun
\nstepping on a mushroom\u2014
\na cloud of spores<\/p>\n

breathing again, calm body
\nnot mine, but nonetheless
\nmarked by exteriority
\nnot determined yet
\nobservable<\/p>\n

not fudging the details
\nstill seeking the truth
\nnot in the air, but
\nin the grounding<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 12:59 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/p>\n

{cw: cancer and eating}<\/p>\n

Wednesday I finished chemo and on Thursday I went out for brunch with the boy from Italy who makes violins who I met on Tinder last summer while I had a brain tumor no one knew about and was as horny as I\u2019ve ever been. I threw up in the bathroom, woozy and the room spinning. Had him pay for our food with my card, the least I could do. Called my father to come pick me up. Lied that I met him in college. Stumbled home on my dad\u2019s arms. Took a shower.<\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

Is the truth a poem? As simple as I can, write down what is happening to me my body.<\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

Body smaller than it\u2019s ever been, it\u2019s true that I\u2019ve lost some weight. Where my belly is convex with all the water I must drink to drive the poison out. How hard it is to force myself to eat. The nausea medication works when you have enough food in your belly to make the nausea medication work. About ten spoonfuls of chicken broth and five raspberries do not cut it.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 12:07 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Late <\/strong>
\nThis delayed M train
\ngliding over
\ngolden hour Williamsburg
\nis not unlike
\na day moon<\/p>\n

piercing the afternoon haze
\nwith a bawdy unexpectedness<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 12:03 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 5<\/strong>
\nWake at 6\/drive far
\nWork\/eat trash\/hang with kid
\nIt’s Friday fuckers.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 11:55 AM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

pigeons & potatoes<\/strong>
\ni.
\nbrian\u2019s therapist
\ntold him that it might be helpful
\nif he thought about answering the question
\n\u201cwho am I?\u201d
\nso I told him that this morning
\na pigeon almost got run over by a car
\nbut managed to flap itself
\nout of the way
\nand when it landed at my feet
\nI told it, out loud and
\ndisregarding the passersby
\nto \u201cwatch out baby,\u201d
\nand that I think that\u2019s who I am
\nand that I think maybe he should
\nthink about moments like that
\nwhere he feels
\nauthentically,
\nif albeit ridiculously,
\nhimself.<\/p>\n

ii.
\nbrian told me
\nabout how he just yelled out loud
\n\u201cthe only reason I\u2019m unhappy
\nis because I started believing
\nI should act and be a certain way\u201d
\nand he sent me a cartoon he drew
\nof a potato drinking coffee
\nand said that his identity is based on
\nhis Starbucks consumption
\nand his odd shape.
\nI told him that sounded
\nlike a very good thing to acknowledge
\nabout himself
\nand then later regretted
\nthat I forgot to reinforce
\nthat his shape is not odd
\nand if it is then perhaps odd
\nis not a negative word.<\/p>\n

iii.
\nI share all of my poetry
\nwith brian
\nexcept for the occasional poem
\nabout him.
\nI think I have a complex
\nabout being accused
\nof loving people too much
\nor about people
\nthinking things matter to me
\nmore than they should.
\nwhich sounds like the same problem
\ndressing up like a paradox
\nI think,
\nbut is nonetheless
\nprobably a bigger part of me
\nthan the pigeons,
\njust like brian thinking he has to be
\na certain way is probably
\na bigger part of him
\nthan the cold brew and potatoes.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 11:19 AM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

i can’t sleep tonight: variation 2<\/strong>
\ni can\u2019t sleep tonight<\/p>\n

as i listen to the rain crash upon the tin roof<\/p>\n

and the thunder strike the earth with no regard for those below<\/p>\n

i can\u2019t sleep tonight<\/p>\n

it surprises me<\/p>\n

because<\/p>\n

usually i\u2019m soothed by the rain and the thunder<\/p>\n

But
\nNot
\nTonight<\/p>\n

something is different
\ni\u2019m Thinking about my Queer Siblings
\nthe ones no longer with us
\nthe ones living in fear
\nthe ones living their best lives<\/p>\n

and how does my story intertwine
\nand entangle with theirs<\/p>\n

like vines in the rainforest seeking canopies<\/p>\n

the sunlight
\nthe brightness<\/p>\n

the Light<\/p>\n

i can\u2019t sleep tonight
\ni\u2019m searching for my Light<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Fri, Apr 5, 2019 at 9:23 AM Gabriel Coleman wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Love Poem from the Window to the Sun<\/strong>
\nthese late nights
\naren’t good for me
\nearly mornings
\nwrapped in your
\nwarm arms<\/p>\n

the sun floods in through the window.
\ni’m sitting on the floor next to the dog;
\nthe glass is cool against my back
\nand her golden hairs are floating around,
\nthe light glinting off them.<\/p>\n

your glowing belly
\nbreath against my skin
\nif you’re the sun
\nthen I’m the one
\nthat lets you in.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 10:10 PM Travis Amiel txxxxx@travisamiel.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

I can feel
\nIn control
\nWhen I’ve tapped
\nEvery notification<\/p>\n

It takes a minute
\nIt takes a finger<\/p>\n

The red dots
\nVanish<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 8:55 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

there\u2019s music
\nsoft jazz if you will<\/p>\n

it sidles up to the window, arms
\nwide<\/p>\n

this morning we heard the earthquake alarm,
\nthe window said
\nget outside<\/p>\n

so we shook: our internal vibrations
\na sound
\nfor a sound<\/p>\n

the window is our mediator,
\nthe aural tollbooth of streetscapes
\nand living rooms<\/p>\n

thank you window, for your
\npermittance of petrachor
\namidst august downpours
\nwe\u2019d sit and watch
\nfeet pressed against the glass,
\nthrilled for your intermediary role<\/p>\n

i remember the drag of fair poles on atlantic
\nevery september,
\nthe window called me outside<\/p>\n

when the sun sets early,
\npress your hand to feel the cold,
\nframe the mauve sky,
\nnote the muted tires on snow<\/p>\n

finally: with panes pressed against
\nunsunned thighs
\nwe\u2019d wipe away evidence of rain
\nspot buds busting below<\/p>\n

the window knows no seasons:
\na purveyor of urban rhythm,
\nmeasured in sound
\nor time<\/p>\n

(mexico city 4.4)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 5:17 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Urban Lamentation 3: Paragon City<\/strong>
\nI ride the bandwidth chain
\nall the way from hard drive to modem
\nthe tightly braided Ethernet cables
\nthat tremble with a phantom shock
\nand through the smoky circuitboards
\nuntil I\u2019m on the Paragon City Green Line.<\/p>\n

I am zooming through war walls
\nand pixelated sunsets,
\npast multistory pewter monuments to apotheosized heroes
\nand labyrinthine office Meccas to organized crime.<\/p>\n

my face before the frame
\nwarped by the disappearance of the human
\nand emergence of the hero
\nsmiles at the vast and unending digital sandbox<\/p>\n

I am no one and anyone
\nmy heart beat slows
\nthinking about
\nan erotics of anonymity
\nthe shadows of possibility<\/p>\n

the freedom to traverse buildings
\nin a single leap
\nor fly at hairstanding speeds
\npast the police or the civil servants.<\/p>\n

but this is all the dream of a Styx city
\na city that slopes in pre-rendered rubble<\/p>\n

where vigilantes used to teleport
\nfrom one urban precipice to another
\nwhere crime was crime
\nand it did not become subsumed under a blue badge
\nor a power trip
\nwhere the slow moving blue sky
\nonce perpetually oscillated between
\ntrue blue and spotty cloud cover<\/p>\n

now there is a computerized flat line
\nthe ghost of an imprint of a memory
\nof an imaginary city
\nof hard fought justice
\nand power beyond power.<\/p>\n

where once the ever replenishing well of brainpower
\nflowed endlessly like the fountains in Atlas Park
\nnow the dessicated husk of a font
\nshivers in silence.<\/p>\n

If I were to mind meld
\ninto my motherboard
\nand corporeally jump
\nfrom physical world
\nto the city of heroes<\/p>\n

I would be met with nothing
\nsave for the glowing hum
\nof absence<\/p>\n

as my screen runs home
\nto Kings Row
\nand turns on the television.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 3:33 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

here we are again
\ntogether at last
\nall you strangers
\nand me<\/p>\n

how long it\u2019s been since
\nI\u2019ve looked blankly
\nat your faces
\nfamiliar
\nin anonymity<\/p>\n

we sludge through
\nthe gates
\nof liminal spaces
\nwith choreography<\/p>\n

lugging hints of
\nfalse affinity<\/p>\n

at a brisk pace
\nor toddling along
\nmeandering
\nslouching<\/p>\n

we feign control;<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 2:50 PM Gabriel Coleman gxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Reflections in the Kwik Trip in my Head <\/strong>
\nWhile trying to write about the rubber plant in my family’s dining room I stumbled into a Kwik Trip that had been lurking in a corner of my mind. I sat in the passenger seat, having just pulled in from 3rd, past the pumps and into the spot where Mom and I always parked. It’s dark outside, early evening maybe. For a long moment I watch the yellow rectangles of light from the doors swing open and closed, a steady stream of people going in and out. Pushing open the car door with my forearm I walk along the sidewalk, past the propane tanks and the ice cooler, and into the store.<\/p>\n

Once inside I take an inventory: the automotive supplies and sunscreen in the first aisle, Gardettos, gummy candy, and jars of spinach artichoke dip in the second. I walk past the island piled with bananas, potatoes, and onions and down along the coolers on the far wall, full of Arizonas and crates of bagged milk. Beyond the coffee station is the smoothie\/milkshake machine and the pastry case. I move to stand in front of the counter, looking past the cinnamon rolls nested in clamshells to the chewing tobacco and cigarettes along the back wall.<\/p>\n

It is completely dark outside now, the window shows only my own reflection, hands resting on the ice cream freezer. The store’s undifferentiated design, the ubiquitous sand colored tile and always-in-the-same-place bathroom, makes me feel that I could step out of the Kwik Trip into Apple Valley or Northfield or LaCrosse or any town or highway rest stop in the upper Midwest and so I place my palm against the metal handle of the door and I push.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 12:13 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

i don\u2019t know but i\u2019m sure someone would tell me this is how the government controls us or something <\/strong>
\nmy problems are starting to bore me<\/p>\n

and your problems<\/p>\n

they\u2019re boring<\/p>\n

my privilege is starting to bore me<\/p>\n

and your privilege<\/p>\n

it\u2019s worse<\/p>\n

my cynicism is starting to bore me<\/p>\n

and your cynicism<\/p>\n

it\u2019s tedious<\/p>\n

triggering\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 torturous\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 tantalizing<\/p>\n

trendy<\/p>\n

how did we all end up cliches again?<\/p>\n

this\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 time\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0around<\/p>\n

alt-all like this
\nindie-pundit
\npop. but only if it\u2019s art.<\/p>\n

20\u2019s. 40\u2019s. 60\u2019s. 90\u2019s.
\nneon. dayglo. midnight oil.<\/p>\n

to be. young. again.<\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

to be<\/p>\n

to be<\/p>\n

young<\/p>\n

and\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0no\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0one\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 cares<\/p>\n

(unless they do)<\/p>\n

(they do)<\/p>\n

(not)<\/p>\n

when the concept of youth grows tired…<\/p>\n

(people have been young for eons now)<\/p>\n

there is no youth left for us<\/p>\n

CODA:
\nmy apathy is starting to bore me<\/p>\n

your apathy
\nyour ap a thy
\ny our ap a thy<\/p>\n

it\u2019s…<\/p>\n

your en er gy
\n…
\nYOUR ENERGY<\/p>\n

…YOUR YELLING
\nYOU\u2019RE SCREAMING
\nYOU ARE HOWLING<\/p>\n

and i\u2019ll allow it.<\/p>\n

i\u2019ll allow it.<\/p>\n

i\u2019ll allow it.<\/p>\n

in spite of everything inside me
\ntelling you to grow (give it) up<\/p>\n

i\u2019ll allow it
\ni\u2019ll allow it
\nthere\u2019s so little left to take<\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

and
\nAND
\nafter all<\/p>\n

it\u2019s gotten me everything I cling to.)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 11:37 AM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 4<\/strong>
\nmineral point wisconsin, arlington wisconsin, cassville wisconsin<\/em><\/p>\n

returning there half awake in the backseat of grandma\u2019s oldsmobile
\nup the rolling incline of the downtown
\nquaint and oldworldly\u2014like an english high street
\nthe town a small dot astride the driftless hills<\/p>\n

ten years later, still in winter
\ndriving to arlington in dad\u2019s truck
\nout to the prairie, past the hills<\/p>\n

alone in the chapel
\nupstairs in the loft
\nsoftly snowing
\ninside, sounding:<\/p>\n

quintaton 8\u2019
\ngemshorn 8\u2019
\nmixtur v<\/p>\n

then<\/p>\n

falling asleep\u2014finally\u2014early in the morning after a long rehearsal
\nafter having to transfer across town because of track maintenance
\nthinking to myself of what is next
\nfeeling the gravity of the city
\nwhere going five miles feels like an eternity
\nremembering how things felt as a passenger
\nseeing through the right hand window
\non the way to grandma\u2019s house
\nwinding our way down to the riverside village
\nbeyond the bluffs, into the coulee
\ndriving past the swimming pool
\nseeing the power station lit in the distance
\nthrough her porch, wicker-scented
\nsaying goodnight, the sound of a train<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 9:43 AM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

you Defined your Worth Today<\/strong>
\nim in love with you
\nfor far too long<\/p>\n

i was in love with others<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

searching for the love of others<\/p>\n

but
\nNever<\/p>\n

in search of your love<\/p>\n

Today
\ni woke up and finally found it within myself
\nto love you<\/p>\n

and<\/p>\n

all that you are<\/p>\n

every little part of you that people<\/p>\n

have called<\/p>\n

ugly
\nwrong
\ntwisted
\nsick
\nworthless<\/p>\n

Today
\ni woke<\/p>\n

And<\/p>\n

loved all of that – all that made you<\/p>\n

you Defined your Worth Today<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 2:25 AM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Re: friendship graves<\/strong>
\nLiving next to a kindergarten.<\/p>\n

Next to the fence,<\/p>\n

While I stretched,<\/p>\n

I saw:<\/p>\n

A pink plastic jewelry<\/p>\n

A pipe cleaner<\/p>\n

A frog made of rubber<\/p>\n

A Lego<\/p>\n

A hairclip that is yellow<\/p>\n

Tossed over the rainbow fence<\/p>\n

When they said they would be friends anymore.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 9:28 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

what will the blossoms bring?
\nsing hymns of happy solitude and friendship, all at once I begin to weep
\nat the wonders that will come
\nonce this is done<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 9:26 PM Travis Amiel txxxxx@travisamiel.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

your compliments are
\na single drip that falls down
\na bottomless well<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 8:57 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

sleeping in other people\u2019s
\nbeds
\nriding their bicycles
\nusing their
\nface masks
\nwhile they go to work
\nand catch up on emails<\/p>\n

being? or just casting
\na shadow
\ninto other lives<\/p>\n

finding myself out of place
\nfinding myself, out of place<\/p>\n

familiarity lies in objects, behaviors<\/p>\n

where do you live?
\nthey ask.<\/p>\n

with my backpack,
\ni answer.<\/p>\n

(mexico city 4.3)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 8:45 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

a confession
\na sudden hinge
\na twinge
\nof realization<\/p>\n

an understanding
\nan elixir
\nuncorked
\nthe warmth
\na shared drop<\/p>\n

radiating<\/p>\n

you, too?<\/p>\n

“I heard once
\nthat L.A. is
\nthe loneliest
\nplace
\nin the world”<\/p>\n

divided in metal cages
\nof thoughts unshared
\nfree to be ignorant
\nof lives caged<\/p>\n

so too here
\nand there<\/p>\n

maybe those you admire
\nare bottled too
\ntheir roots
\nstill clenched
\nburied within
\ntheir seeds<\/p>\n

or maybe it’s
\njust the cages<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 6:17 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

equilateral nondisclosure<\/strong>
\nwhen i was in ninth grade
\ni took geometry a year ahead
\nwith the tenth graders.
\ni sat in the back of the class
\ntrying to pretend
\nthat i was one of them\u2014 that
\nmaybe they would think
\nthat i was just a new kid,
\nthat maybe they wouldn\u2019t realize
\nthat i wasn\u2019t one of them.
\ni made it almost all year,
\nuntil one day a kid, full of
\npre-summer angst, gestured at me
\nwhile complaining to the teacher
\nabout the freshman.
\ni feel like life is still like that now
\nsometimes, like
\nas long as i don\u2019t acknowledge it
\ni can try and pretend
\nthat you think that i am exactly like you.
\ni can try and pretend
\nthat maybe no one knows.<\/p>\n

-Cam, 04.03.19<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 2:51 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 3<\/strong>
\nYou are not too late
\nTomorrow is ramen day
\nToday, hunger\/wait<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 2:36 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

sticky<\/strong>
\nmy nostrils are becoming choked
\nby the renascent trees
\nairing their sexy sterile laundry<\/p>\n

FM tuning reverbs and reflects
\nin the screams of children<\/p>\n

the days of the boom box
\nhave long since passed<\/p>\n

but when warmth descends
\non the square
\nI remember how loud it becomes.<\/p>\n

and when I search and look
\nfor a stare
\nback<\/p>\n

my pulse trembles
\nin thinking about<\/p>\n

what marks me
\nwhat\u2019s my tell
\nthat gives a glance back
\nto my lazy eyes.<\/p>\n

the men in tight pants
\nwho look back towards me
\nor passed me<\/p>\n

shoot a gaze
\nbeyond the most fertile
\nbaby trees of the Union<\/p>\n

and far down beneath
\nthe sedimentary bed
\nof rapidly evaporating
\npuddles.<\/p>\n

I open up my phone
\nand look at other squares<\/p>\n

other trembling pulses
\nairing out their sexy sterile laundry<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 2:18 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

in response to 2nd graders: i don’t know<\/strong>
\nare you a boy<\/p>\n

are you a BOY????<\/p>\n

no<\/p>\n

what are you then?<\/p>\n

i don’t know<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 2:16 PM Gabriel Coleman wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Inside\/Outside or Over\/Under, a Lunch Poem for Frank<\/strong>
\nThe weeping fig on the stair
\nseems to hold the atmosphere and all its
\nsmall undulations in its spreading arms;
\nbrief changes in pressure coming up from the 10th
\nfloor or down from the 12th.<\/p>\n

It’s a nice day so I go out walking,
\ntry to pull something out of the air.<\/p>\n

A curtain of glass runs under the landing
\nand when I pass beneath it on my way from the bathroom
\nto my desk I can feel its presence
\njust above the crown of my head.<\/p>\n

The endless white plume coming up
\nfrom under 20th and Broadway always smells
\na little sweet and meaty and
\nI’m a vegetarian so I’ve learned to
\nhold my breath as I bike through.<\/p>\n

An unintentional consequence of popular
\nteabag design is that the string acts as a wick
\nsiphoning small amounts of tea onto the table.
\nNot only does this create a slowly spreading stain
\non whatever surface the tag hangs over, it prevents
\nconsumption of the intended amount of liquid.<\/p>\n

I walked to Gramercy thinking
\nto get a coffee from Irving Farm
\nbut now that I’m here I’d rather just eat the sun.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

On Wed, Apr 3, 2019 at 12:04 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 3<\/strong>
\ndust, red sun, evening in a parallel world (in response to Cosimo Pori\u2019s reflection on The Vessel)<\/em><\/p>\n

1.
\nwrong elevator: took me to the second floor
\n\u2014could not take me to the first, interestingly
\na stranger joined me
\nelevator\u2014again\u2014took us to the wrong floor<\/p>\n

i tried to get to the right platform later that night, but couldn\u2019t navigate
\nit is almost like it was designed to be illogical
\none side without access to the other
\nthe other complex beyond necessity<\/p>\n

before the doors open in the morning\u2014<\/p>\n

a public without access to essential services
\nin the middle of the city park taking a shit in the bush
\nanother in line at the emergency room door, perhaps
\n\u2018make em wait\u2019<\/p>\n

the subway, once again, delayed
\ntracks on fire<\/p>\n

have to move, again
\n\u2014landlord<\/p>\n

then, around the corner\u2014closer than one\u2019d think
\nsearching for crumbs outside of the restaurant
\nhuddling away from the wind<\/p>\n

off the street
\non the other side of the door:
\nthe steak is too dry
\na hair in the pasta
\nwrong drink<\/p>\n

2.
\ni was born on the date september fourteenth nineteen-ninety-four
\nand nonetheless some people were also born on that day
\n\u2014before and after, in fact\u2014
\nand today as i am writing this people still continue to be born and what not<\/p>\n

and in placing faith in science and reason
\n\u2014which we all must do\u2014
\nthe world we live on will die someday
\nsubsumed into the broader collapse of an unstable, fragmented universe
\nthis is simply\u2014with our current knowledge\u2014not a matter of belief
\n\u2014it is a truth as far as current reason is concerned<\/p>\n

as for civilization:
\nthis is a wholly different matter<\/p>\n

when i woke up when i was born
\ni joined everyone else here
\neating, shitting, and sleeping
\ni learned history
\nlistened to my parents
\ndidn\u2019t go on vacation
\nmade some friends<\/p>\n

we are responsible for what we do in the end\u2014
\nnot we as a bunch of \u201cI\u2019s\u201d
\nbut we as the one and final \u201cwe\u201d<\/p>\n

3.
\nownership is not a natural condition
\nvaluable is not beautiful
\nindividuality is not freedom
\npopularity is not community
\nspectacle is not progress<\/p>\n

not to say progress is illusory\u2014
\nwe have certain responsibilities to each other, after all
\ndespite who says otherwise\u2014<\/p>\n

when climbing those many stairs
\nthrough our days
\ninto that final sunset overlooking the water
\nwe will all decide\u2014together
\nif we want to charge admission or not<\/p>\n

4.3.19<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 10:37 PM Travis Amiel xxxxx@travisamiel.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

excerpts from my end of a conversation with my father, 2 April 2019<\/strong>
\nthat\u2019s good
\ngood
\ni\u2019m glad
\n…
\nwow that\u2019s great
\nfantastic
\nhappy to hear that
\n…
\nok good
\nreally?
\nmhmm
\nwhat does that mean
\n…
\ngreat<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 9:42 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Easter<\/strong>
\nRhododendron<\/p>\n

Peony<\/p>\n

Colored vibrant<\/p>\n

They believe<\/p>\n

Their stamen stakes a claim in<\/p>\n

Science<\/p>\n

But stigma sticks wild flies<\/p>\n

In silence<\/p>\n

Leave the leafs to turn in autumn<\/p>\n

Chloroform can’t kill this humdrum<\/p>\n

Life. Their roots root down survival<\/p>\n

Stoma stomachs spring revival<\/p>\n

Petals peel a slow reveal<\/p>\n

Cycles on, my soul to heal.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 9:06 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Listen, I will not relent.
\nWhen this is all over,
\nlet the bed-boards bend.
\nI have called you back to me too long.
\nYou say that time is gone.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 6:36 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

ode to texan cars<\/strong><\/p>\n

from me, the walker<\/strong><\/p>\n

you glide
\nroar
\nswerve
\nconfidence fuming<\/p>\n

your inhabitant
\ndawdling<\/p>\n

ogling<\/p>\n

biding their time
\nin tin ships
\nthrough hollow lives<\/p>\n

your exhaust<\/p>\n

ing<\/p>\n

with your indifferent
\ncallous
\nstares<\/p>\n

at a living
\nbreathing
\nyour fumes
\ntired member
\nof the dying race
\nracing to die<\/p>\n

unless<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 4:08 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 2<\/strong>
\nWhat is this anthem
\nI wake up to bright shrill spring
\nPurge and re-emerge<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 1:11 PM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

there\u2019s a movement
\nslightly pulsing
\nmore momentous than breath
\nbut similarly unconscious<\/p>\n

peeking around at the stillness
\nbut seeing the hum of
\nelectrons, the space
\nbetween masses<\/p>\n

trying to define \u2018here\u2019
\nis an effort demanding bounds<\/p>\n

is it the movement
\nor the stillness
\nthat guides?<\/p>\n

(mexico city 4.2)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 11:14 AM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

one day they will know their victories<\/strong>
\nVictory, from Latin – victor, victoria, from Middle English – victorie
\nachievement of mastery or success in a struggle or endeavor against odds or difficulties
\nwhen they achieve victory they should believe in their capacity to master<\/p>\n

but they don\u2019t<\/p>\n

somtimes they felt like victor
\nsometimes they felt like victoria
\nsometimes they felt like victorie<\/p>\n

depending on the day
\ndepending on their internal state
\ndepending on how people looked at them<\/p>\n

but they were always a combination of the three or none of them<\/p>\n

they began to see victories in the small moments and so<\/p>\n

they slowly achieved mastery in<\/p>\n

showering
\nskincare
\ncooking
\ncleaning
\nwaking up each day<\/p>\n

in Loving themself<\/p>\n

against the greatest odds and difficulties
\nLife could throw Their Way<\/p>\n

one day they will know their victories<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 11:05 AM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 2<\/strong>
\nblack, abstraction, glacial movement<\/em><\/p>\n

some animated exchange of forces
\nan indecision or two
\ninadequate means to complete
\n\u2014not potential, but present
\nlacking in community, sometimes but not always
\nhaving to wipe the countertop once again<\/p>\n

considering the circle, the sphere, the torus:
\n\u2014what is their presence?
\n\u2014what does one see travelling along their surface?
\n\u2014what is hidden and what is revealed?<\/p>\n

we were hiding from the wind in a cafe on the clark street side of the square
\ni was hiding from the boss at the dunkin donuts across the street from the shop
\nwe were hiding from punctuality in the bakery near the train station
\ni was listening to the water through the cellar door with the storm outside
\nthey were wishing for time to not be measured
\ntraveling through the day\u2014on the clock
\nreveries of movement
\nchanging through the seasons
\ntime of the body
\nthe worn gears of capital, finally settling
\nbreath returning to the body<\/p>\n

i will remember there
\nspacious, the hole of the wheel<\/p>\n

light, we exit<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 10:51 AM Gabriel Coleman wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

High Society<\/strong>
\nSidewalk bridges are up on both sides of the block now. This must be the slow invasion we’ve been waiting for,<\/p>\n

more seem to go up all the time and none ever come back down.
\nOr its a secret mayoral resiliency plan:<\/p>\n

when the floods finally come we’ll climb their spindly legs and get to the office through the second story window.
\nWe’ll say “The Trader Joe’s is underwater, but the only thing above us is the sun.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Tue, Apr 2, 2019 at 9:44 AM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

The Door-to-Door Salesman<\/strong>
\nFeet on the pavement,
\npounding like a heartbeat\u2014
\nyou\u2019re always walking
\nlike you\u2019re lost. The skies
\ncould open, the bridges
\nbe broken and you would
\njust walk and walk and walk.
\nThis is not the life you were
\npromised. It\u2019s probably better,
\nbut you\u2019re starting to feel
\nlike what you\u2019re learning
\nis how to be a fraud\u2014 to put
\non a costume everyday,
\nuntil it becomes a uniform,
\nuntil no one can tell that you\u2019re a
\nmonster packed in human skin.
\n(It used to be the other way
\naround and you can\u2019t tell which
\nis better.) But all you know (and
\nall you can say to everyone who
\nasks) is that tomorrow you\u2019ll be
\nbetter. Just another day now,
\nyou promise\u2014 you\u2019ll be better.<\/p>\n

-Cam, 04.02.19<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 10:45 PM Anna-Christina Betekhtin axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

I took my pills today,
\nremembered to drink water
\nand to wash my fruit.
\nI am hidden to myself even when I do these things.
\nTo stand beneath the shower, mouth open, screaming,
\nis not the way to find whence the water flows.
\nI have never demanded answers,
\nknowing that there are none,
\nbut I wish for them so deeply in the shallow shower pan.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 10:18 PM Travis Amiel txxxxx@travisamiel.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

she was equestrian
\nwhile her sister
\nthe younger, was invested in
\nplaying
\nin the mud<\/p>\n

the younger a potter
\nthe older a potter
\nbetween the two
\na mountain
\na hill
\na love
\na tear<\/p>\n

fingers always pointing
\nreversing
\nand surfing
\nfrom head to
\ntoe
\nturned around<\/p>\n

no path has convention
\nbut still they’ll mention
\nconfusion and pride
\nfor why
\nthey walk<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 9:28 PM Irene Henry ixxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cbut wait
\nthere\u2019s more:
\nthe future is not
\nwhat you think
\nit\u2019s\u201d<\/p>\n

more
\nfor later
\nall
\nfor now
\nwords peel slowly
\nfrom their core<\/p>\n

long thoughts
\nchase round
\nsighs
\nof a past
\ntoward
\nbefore<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 7:03 PM Cam Ossege cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

#relatable – Pets at Parties<\/strong>
\nI forgot how New York in the summer
\nalways feels like a party.<\/p>\n

A party<\/p>\n

that I\u2019m not really invited to
\nand that I don\u2019t know anyone at
\nbut the kind of party that feels
\nc o o l to get to say that I went.<\/p>\n

(And
\nbecause no one has to know
\nthat mainly what I did was watch other people
\nhave fun while I made faces at the house cat
\nand imagined a someday where I can figure out
\nhow to<\/p>\n

D A N C E<\/p>\n

in the streets.)<\/p>\n

-Cam, 4.01.2019<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 5:06 PM Ash ey axxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Billie’s songs.<\/strong>
\nA highly anticipated album:<\/p>\n

Is slightly dissatisfying fandom.<\/p>\n

Is wily unmediated crooning.<\/p>\n

This lightly unconventional sadness
\nWith dry eyes drives golf carts to blackness.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 4:26 PM Cosimo cxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Sext for Bahktin <\/strong>
\nOur bodies do not speak the same language
\nI can tell by the trust you put into strangers
\nwho get too close to you
\non the subway.<\/p>\n

My words are not yours
\nor mine
\nbut rather a thin gold leaf line
\non society’s embossed vase.<\/p>\n

Let my speech swirl
\nin your mouth
\nlike cold egg,<\/p>\n

steal my phrases
\nand become then,<\/p>\n

lower and behold me<\/p>\n

(a frayed tapestry of time
\nput into words),<\/p>\n

take my breath away
\nand give life back to our syntax.<\/p>\n

Every sweet nothing was something:
\na long drawl
\na reply all
\nin an otherwise muddy riverbank
\nof chain mail<\/p>\n

your utterances stood out to me
\nlike an albino fish
\nin thick silt.<\/p>\n

I long to become your favorite slang
\nsaid in between a tense lip
\nand an inhale through your teeth,<\/p>\n

behind something like a smile.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 2:31 PM Brennan R O’Rourke bxxxxx@nyu.edu wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

you may blame me for your hate<\/strong>
\nyou blame me for your hate
\nBut your hate is your problem.
\nYou may tell me its mine
\nBut<\/p>\n

it\u2019s not<\/p>\n

your words influence
\nchange
\nshape
\ncreate<\/p>\n

they do not live in isolation
\nthey live IN relation<\/p>\n

you may blame me for your hate
\nbut your hate is your problem<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 2:25 PM M Kaldjian mxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

April 1<\/strong>
\nDivided sisters
\nSome days we work, soar, roar, sing
\nOther days we sink.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 1:03 PM Jack Langdon jxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Event 1<\/strong>
\nnighttime, walking around old town<\/em><\/p>\n

we\u2019re losing you, see
\nyou decided to go off on your own
\nand finding your way without any help
\nand look at where you are now<\/p>\n

the american goes into a world and has an experience
\nsomehow trembling with magnificence and awe
\nan opinion, perhaps
\nshining with subjectivity<\/p>\n

forgetting their subject is less of an I
\nand more of a fragment, occasionally making sense<\/p>\n

going forward, headlong-blind
\ninto the shining shit with wild abandon<\/p>\n

who are your neighbors?
\nhave you forgotten?<\/p>\n

inside, disorganized
\nin through:<\/p>\n

struggling under the yellowish light
\nin the twilight of your assuredness<\/p>\n

no grounding
\nheadless and frozen<\/p>\n

4.1.19<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 11:51 AM Lena Greenberg hxxxxx@gmail.com wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

sitting on someone else’s floor<\/strong>
\nall it
\ntakes
\nis a little
\nmezcal<\/p>\n

two nights of
\nfever dreams have me<\/p>\n

wondering if i\u2019m
\nready for a
\nhome<\/p>\n

chickens on the stairs
\na case of mistaken identity:
\ndredged up from<\/p>\n

where exactly?<\/p>\n

all it
\ntakes
\nis a little
\nmezcal<\/p>\n

(mexico city, 4.1)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Mon, Apr 1, 2019 at 8:24 AM Gabriel Coleman <gcoleman.mn@gmail.com<\/a>> wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

The Black Arts*<\/strong>
\ncoffee chocolate sugar
\nflour milk butter
\nwater<\/p>\n

above the shop’s burble
\nmy cup clinks too
\nloudly against its saucer<\/p>\n

pastry flakes litter
\nmy lap, the plate, my lips
\ndry in the morning, now
\nstained with butter
\nmilk sugar coffee
\nceramic chocolate flour. in<\/p>\n

notes of hazelnut? apricot?
\nfear or moist earth,
\nthe CAFO
\ncacao plantation and\/or
\ncane fields echo<\/p>\n

behind my teeth – water
\ntraces a line between the
\nblack arts, pulls them apart
\nto be woven into<\/p>\n

my body implicated
\nin their history<\/p>\n

*https:\/\/www.atlasobscura.com\/places\/union-porcelain<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

On Sun, Mar 31, 2019 at 2:05 PM Gabriel Coleman wrote:<\/em><\/p>\n

Hi Everyone,<\/p>\n

Happy Trans* Day of Visibility and happy Last Day Before Poetry Month Shenanigans!!<\/p>\n

We have two newcomers to the poetry party:
\nCam (they\/them\/Cam)<\/strong> – Advocate for pigeons, candles, and nice sweaters.
\nTravis Amiel (he\/him\/his)<\/strong> – a fart that gained sentience and a debt card.<\/p>\n

Hope everyone has a great rest of the weekend, please let me know if you\u2019ll be stopping by tomorrow for the kickoff thingy and I look forward to reading and writing alongside you all!!<\/p>\n

Cheers,
\nGabe<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\n

Le 25 mars 2019 \u00e0 10:38, Gabriel Coleman <gcoleman.mn@gmail.com<\/a>> a \u00e9crit\u00a0:<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
Hi all,<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n
Thank you all for joining in this collaborative creative adventure!\u00a0 I’m so excited for us to get started next week so in anticipation of that, here’s how this whole thing works:<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
1.\u00a0The goal is to write and share a poem on each of the 30 days in April!<\/b>\u00a0This is not a competition and there are no benchmarks for “quality” – the central idea is that in writing 30 things, no matter what they look like, everyone should come away with at least one piece that they feel proud of or can serve as a seed for a developing work!\u00a0\u00a0Missing a day is fine but please try to contribute at least something each day<\/b>\u00a0– to keep the creative momentum flowing!<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
2.\u00a0REPLY ALL to the most recent email in this thread<\/b>\u00a0with your poem.\u00a0 This is so that at the end of the month we end up with a single document containing all of our poems, a sort of readymade anthology!<\/div>\n
Suggested format:<\/b><\/div>\n
\n