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Angela Smyth

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Museum of Artifacts

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Louise Bourgeois

insomnia drawings

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The Sphinx, the Substance, and the Dreamer, Jason Mowry

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As one expects of a lyric poet, We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.

— Louise Glück, from “Nostros,” Meadowlands (Ecco, 1997)

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As one expects of a lyric poet, We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.

— Louise Glück, from “Nostros,” Meadowlands (Ecco, 1997)

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I figured a poetry book would do it.

that it would be enough to express my feelings. It didn't.

I kept on thinking about how to achieve such enterprise, feeling like there was this sordid void I could possibly fill if I did well enough.

told some of this to my analyst. He let me see I wasn't really facing what I was struggling with. I have kept my feelings to myself and myself only. Apparently, I've learned to fear to express myself.

I gathered all my bravery for a whole week and let my roomie know she was mean and lazy and that I was hugely frustrated she didn't quit to stuff the way it was necessary for me not to let myself go. She got it for a couple of minutes. afterward, she stated she was fantasizing about leaving and living with someone else. I told her I love her and that it was her thing to figure out.

My boyfriend arrived. He was bothered I didn't reply to his messages- later I found he was at his bf's and he denied our relationship while waiting for me to text back. I decided to go on with the effort and I told him, as if it was a tale, about the D.Ab. I went through as a child. Then about my abusive ex-partner and his controlling manners. He couldn't say much more than 'you're better than me at communicating'.

Next day I found out there was another person I was denied to as his boyfriend. I feel insecure, unsafe. I was thinking earlier today it was my fault, but since I'm writing, there's no way it's my fault I'd feel a void I didn't build, and I'm kinda mad at him. I expect nobody gets to read my poems and written discharge in here and identify me. I hope writing in english also helps.

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Paul Virilio

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DIANA GREBNYOVA

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aeschylus agamemnon (tr. anne carson) \ hyman bloom

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Washing after work    -    Johann Coenraad Hermann Heijenbrock 

Dutch,1871-1948

Pastel on paper  , 48  x  32 cm.

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Insurgencia

Aprendí

que disfruto cuando me respiran

que disfruto ver disfrute

que disfruto disfrutar

peras, manzanas y plátanos

que disfruto las palabras y sus juegos

no sus cosas, señor foucault

/como el humor/

que disfruto de dejar caer mi peso en los resortes de la cama

que disfruto el dedo en tecla

el dedo (en)teclado.

que disfruto más de lo que pude admitir un tiempo.

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The Father's Grave by Georg Osterwald

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a steve n bucky for mermay

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In my case

I will let my father die

well-aware

he's very alive in this earthly experience

whilst my letters rip that life apart.

In the case

plenty of things

might fulfill

what might be

just chachki.

That's the case,

becoming a matter of God.

I am more God than God is / these days. Watch me refuse / to let my father die / in this poem.

— Eugenia Leigh, from “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder with Han (한 / 恨)”