#unabridgednpm

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Final Day: Gwendolyn Brooks WE REAL COOL THE POOL PLAYERS. SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL. We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon. #gwendolynbrooks #unabridgedNPM (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[chenchenwrites]

Thanks to unabridgedbookstore for this lovely shout-out! Also I just learned how to repost shit on Instagram so I'm doing that now~ ・・・ #nationalpoetrymonth Day 19: Chen Chen's 'Babel & Juice' · undo me left & sight north & mouth uncompass me with your tender your further & sideways impossibilities come on murk me blue me knock me out out of me my tight & goodly just sweetly behead me with your babel & juice your fiddle your ruse your arson your trees your armpits your fishes your loco your lilts your mango your licks · This is part of Chen Chen's ferocious debut collection, WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A LIST OF FURTHER POSSIBILITIES. Check it out! #chenchen #unabridgedNPM #unabooksprideallyear

[unabridgedbookstore]

#NationalPoetryMonth Day 28: . To light, and then return -- . #EmilyDickinson #UnabridgedNPM

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 27: Melvin Dixon HEARTBEATS Work out. Ten laps. Chin ups. Look good. Steam room. Dress warm. Call home. Fresh air. Eat right. Rest well. Sweetheart. Safe sex. Sore throat. Long flu. Hard nodes. Beware. Test blood. Count cells. Reds thin. Whites low. Dress warm. Eat well. Short breath. Fatigue. Night sweats. Dry cough. Loose stools. Weight loss. Get mad. Fight back. Call home. Rest well. Don’t cry. Take charge. No sex. Eat right. Call home. Talk slow. Chin up. No air. Arms wide. Nodes hard. Cough dry. Hold on. Mouth wide. Drink this. Breathe in. Breathe out. No air. Breathe in. Breathe in. No air. Black out. White rooms. Head hot. Feet cold. No work. Eat right. CAT scan. Chin up. Breathe in. Breathe out. No air. No air. Thin blood. Sore lungs. Mouth dry. Mind gone. Six months? Three weeks? Can’t eat. No air. Today? Tonight? It waits. For me. Sweet heart. Don’t stop. Breathe in. Breathe out. #unabooksprideallyear #unabridgedNPM #melvindixon (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 16: SEPARATION by W.S. Merwin Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color. #unabridgednpm #wsmerwin (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 19: Chen Chen's 'Babel & Juice' · undo me left & sight north & mouth uncompass me with your tender your further & sideways impossibilities come on murk me blue me knock me out out of me my tight & goodly just sweetly behead me with your babel & juice your fiddle your ruse your arson your trees your armpits your fishes your loco your lilts your mango your licks · This is part of Chen Chen's ferocious debut collection, WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A LIST OF FURTHER POSSIBILITIES. Check it out! #chenchen #unabridgedNPM #unabooksprideallyear (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day Seven: From RED JUICE, by Hoa Nguyen SHRED we are complicating patterns. destiny is a big room. we talk like jets missing home: a view of sky as a child a cotton diorama. birds collect where they will telephone wire. the front stoop. what days aren't pinched by absence we are here in our skin. destiny is a small city I could die today. #unabridgednpm #hoanguyen

[unabridgedbookstore]

#NationalPoetryMonth Day 25: From Wisława Szymborska's 'Map' • I like maps, because they lie. Because they give no access to the vicious truth. Because great-heartedly, good-naturedly They spread before me a world Not of this world. • Translated from the Polish by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Barańczak. 🇵🇱 #translatedtuesday #wisławaszymborska #unabridgednpm (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 12: "Thursday is a Good Day to Find an Empty Church Where You Can Be Alone" by Sherman Alexie. From his upcoming memoir of essays and poetry, YOU DON'T HAVE TO SAY YOU LOVE ME. · I want to believe That my father and mother Have found each other In the afterlife And become a new kind Of husband and wife. I hope they've built A home by water And have guest rooms For all of us sons And daughters. But I don't want to be The atheist who prays Only for himself, So let me just say That my mother and father Would certainly prefer To be alive and alive. Maybe they can return As birds. Listen. I know this magic Will never happen. And maybe my faith, Or lack of faith, Is odd. But I don't need Answers. I just want To be heard by somebody - By the real and/or imaginary God. · Look for this powerful memoir in June! #shermanalexie #unabridgednpm (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#NationalPoetryMonth Day 24: . SUMMER . Last summer, two discrete young snakes left their skin on my small porch, two mornings in a row. Being . postmodern now, I pretended as if I did not see them, nor understand what I knew to be circling . inside me. Instead, every hour I told my son to stop with his incessant back-chat. I peeled . a banana. And cursed God --His arrogance, His gall -- to still expect our devotion . after creating love. And mosquitoes. I showed my son the papery dead skins so he could . know, too, what it feels like when something shows up at your door -- twice -- telling you what you already know. . #RobinCosteLewis #UnabridgedNPM

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day Four: WHEN TIME LEFT ME by Osama Alomar • I followed time, taking hold of his hand in happiness. After we had walked a long way, exhaustion overtook me. I asked him if we could rest a while. It seemed as if he hadn't heard me. I repeated my request in a louder voice. He quickly let go of my hand and continued on his way, steadily, without wavering for a moment. • Translated from the Arabic by C. J. Collins with the author. 🇸🇾 #translatedtuesday #osamaalomar #fullbloodarabian #unabridgednpm (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 11: ‘The Water and Mongolia’ by Toriko Takarabe • When I drink water, I wouldn’t think of the sea. I just stand in my kitchen, looking up at the dirty blue ventilator. . I wouldn’t feel, in my mind or on my back, estuaries, inlets, or roaring waves in the distance. I wouldn’t think that in the Mongolian grassland that resembles a sea, in a pao in its midst, there, too, is a TV. I wouldn’t think that almost all of the human body is made of water, I wouldn’t think the soul is made of water. . When I drink water a sheep runs down my windpipe like a brush of pianomissimo. At that moment my healed flesh will give itself a tremble. But when the water passes down my throat, I wouldn’t think of a Mongolian man following his sheep. . When you drink water, you wouldn’t think of a Mongolian man either. You wouldn’t think that simply because the sound your throat echoes, the Mongolian man, in his long sheepskin boots, Walks down to the water’s edge, in large strides. . Walk, walk, to where the water shines. When a wind blows across the withered grassland along the water’s edge, the grass bends, flowing low, flowing low, just like sheep asleep. The withered grass rebels against the wind and stirs, that quick, soft leap of that stirring, moving sound! No, you wouldn’t think of such a thing, when the water passes down your throat. . Simply from a transparent glass you drink water single-mindedly. That’s of course what you do. • Translated from the Japanese by Hiroaki Sato. 🇯🇵 #translatedtuesday #torikotakarabe #unabridgednpm (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 14: From SORROW ARROW, by Emily Kendal Frey . It's too much People with their falling down beauty Their hats at angles The woman DJ You stand on some Cheetos Nobody taught you anything but you kept expanding Soft as plastic . #unabridgedNPM #emilykendalfrey

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 21: . FIGS . April means it's almost time to leave. I'm not exactly sorry about everything that happened in college, it's more the feeling that this afternoon like everything else is escaping me. A yellow beetle inches upside down along the edge of my desk. With each step forward the bright wing-covers shift from side to side. . I give the desk to it. Get outside and head down the reedy path towards the fire pit and the stiff line of alders beyond, empty except for their small grey cones holding fast. . Earlier I'd gone the same way with Aracelis who told me about the fig tree she'll be leaving, behind her apartment in Crown Heights. Like I'm leaving this place, its long skies, its llamas and rusty sumac. . How to account for each small thing we love and which can't come with us: the brown and purple figs, thick and good. This growing sense that loss isn't some inlet we rush into, then out of, back to normal; that it's been there with us, and all we get to keep is the desire for something just as good. What if the next house has creeping bougainvillea, an avocado tree. . #CharlesTheonia #TopsideHeliotrope #unabooksprideallyear #UnabridgedNPM

[unabridgedbookstore]

#nationalpoetrymonth Day 18: Silvina Ocampo's 'Epitaph for a Lover' • I will pursue that world promised by your ecstatic glance. In successive lives, in countryside or cities, when the styles are different, when entire breeds of animals and flowers are being exterminated, my constancy will find you: juniper bushes likewise live waiting for the sun. • Translated from the Spanish by Jason Weiss. 🇦🇷 #translatedtuesday #silvinaocampo #unabridgedNPM (at Unabridged Bookstore)

[unabridgedbookstore]

#NationalPoetryMonth Day 29: . I threw the book into the dark garden. The account begun mid-ocean, in a storm. . #BhanuKapil #UnabridgedNPM