glassea: Poems

glassea Sep 2015

sometimes i lie awake
picturing how a gun would feel
pressed above my ear

and i think it would be cold
and sharp-edged
and empty

but in imagining i
never.
feel.
scared.

1

glassea Sep 2015

1

i miss you like
the sun to the earth

i think your light forgot me
somewhere past mercury

and that's okay -
if you get too close
i'll burn

10

glassea Oct 2015

10

YOU SHOULD HAVE LOVED ME ENOUGH
TO SEE THAT I DIDN'T LOVE YOU.

you should have known.

because i am selfish and ugly and poisonous and everything nobody wants to be.

11

glassea Oct 2015

11

maybe the space between words is lonely.
and maybe that is why i let it swallow me whole.

yeah i don't know what this is

12

glassea Oct 2015

12

the last time my grandmother said goodbye
is the only time she meant it.

no more "come visit again"s
or "see you soon"s.

just
goodbye.
(as if that were an adequate replacement.)

13

glassea Oct 2015

13

i can't love you.

i'm already in love with
someone else's words.

14

glassea Oct 2015

14

i wish you understood
that when i tell you to leave
i'm really asking you to stay

you never do, but it's chill

15

glassea Oct 2015

15

this is early morning anger
when the sun is too far down
to burn away my skin

?? ?????? ??? ?

16

glassea Oct 2015

16

after the sun, you reached for my hand

you said it was the moon in me
that was stronger than earth's gravity

you said if you'd created the stars
you would've put me in with gods

you said when the world ends
you'll die a sundial's shadow
without my light to paint you

friendly reminder that i only write platonic stuff

17

glassea Nov 2015

17

insomnia is its own kind of madness
for when the world lies dead quiet
and your logic cannot sleep
you start to wonder
what starlight would taste like
if you drank it from the moon

18

glassea Nov 2015

18

THERE IS LIVING
AND THERE IS DYING

AND I THINK THE FIRST
INFINITELY MORE PAINFUL
THAN THE LAST

not necessarily worse, but.
more painful.

19

glassea Nov 2015

19

I LOVED SO MANY PEOPLE IN SO MANY WAYS
THAT THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT FOR MYSELF

2

glassea Sep 2015

2

of you, i ask two things:
that you do not cry for me.
that my name will not be unspoken.

20

glassea Nov 2015

20

I LOVED YOU EITHER TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH
AND EVEN I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE.

lots of caps stuff recently. i guess i'm angry.

21

glassea Nov 2015

21

i'm not sure why
autumn smells like blood

but i do know that
the red on my hands
is not of leaves

22

glassea Nov 2015

22

i take my
alabaster
blood

and freeze it
in
the seas

use it
to
help
you
breathe

staccato

23

glassea Nov 2015

23

don't tell me you love me
not like that
if you truly knew me
you'd know that
i'll never say it back

wow i write a lot of poems about my aromanticism
it's kinda important for me if you couldn't tell

#aromantic

24

glassea Nov 2015

24

i laugh solely out of necessity.

where do you leave to, anyways?

25

glassea Nov 2015

25

why do we speak to the moon?

we turn our secrets to
dark, shadowed, everchanging,
pulling the ocean's moods.

but then again -
i can't imagine telling this
to the sun.

26

glassea Nov 2015

26

i kept trying to write out
my sadness.

it took me a long time
to realize that i couldn't
because this is not heartbreak,
or grief,
or loneliness.

there's nothing to be gained
from this kind of pain.

27

glassea Mar 2016

27

he is
silent
in
his
grief

and you
are
more like
the
sounds
between
his
words

28

glassea Apr 2016

28

i don't think i've ever been fine
even though i've said i am
every day of my life

28

glassea Mar 2016

28

heaven's got nothing on you, she said.

and you thought it was a compliment
but they threw you to hell.

29

glassea Apr 2016

29

i saw you
the other day.

walking downtown,
laughing at your dog
as she lunged for pigeons
too stupid to run.

and i thought, oh.

i don't have wings,
but when it comes to you
i've always been
too stupid
to run.

3

glassea Sep 2015

3

let us imagine that we are imaginary.

4

glassea Sep 2015

4

you walk among the suffering
and they do not know you are the cause.

5

glassea Sep 2015

5

here's how it goes:
i wrote your name on my heart
in solid black sharpie,
and i can't get it out.

6

glassea Oct 2015

6

all that glisters is not gold,
for the moon shines a silver
brighter than this sun.

7

glassea Oct 2015

7

the day is filled with ghosts.
the living rest at night,
when dead laughs are silenced
by shadows of the stars.

8

glassea Oct 2015

8

it tastes like quiet, here
the trees watch and do not
movespeakbreathe -
they do not tell the curious sky
what is changing below

it tastes like quiet, here
eighteen species of birds
gone deaf from this silence,
and thirty more
who have forgotten their song

it tastes like quiet, here
shining goldgreengray with
the darkest of clouds

it tastes like quiet, here
and it is so easy
to forget yourself:
impose the heart on forests
and leave it behind

and it tastes like quiet, you think
but you do not remember
knowing anything else

9

glassea Oct 2015

9

sometimes i think i'd like to run
away from this misfortune,
this molasses life,
this maybe someday you'll win—

but other times
i think i'd like to drown here
and suffocate under these dead dreams—

a clock stopped -

glassea Dec 2015

a clock stopped -

i used to think that ceilings
were placed to protect us from the sky
but now i'm left wondering
whether they protect the sky from us

title from an emily dickinson poem.

aging with grace

glassea May 2015

aging with grace

i love you in sixteen ways:
one for each year of my life.

don't fear me fading.
with every breath that passes,
i'll just love you more.

we are not "too young" for love.

a letter from olympus to the world

glassea Jun 2015

a letter from olympus to the world

please don't be like us -
petty, weak, selfish,
hypocritical and warlike and
far too vengeful to prevail.

see, we are insubstantial
in our ignorance.

see, we would rather
scorch the love from our bodies
than feel its unique agony.

o foolish mortals!
we are gods, not idols.

do not make yourselves
in our image.

it seems we never got this letter
dedicated to the victims of racism and bigotry

alfonsina storni

glassea Jun 2015

alfonsina storni

it's odd that
words from someone long dead
in a language not my own
can make me feel
like i might be
worth
it

"hispanohablante"

a modern desdemona

glassea May 2015

a modern desdemona

i think i fell in love with an idea
and i thought the idea was you

i think i fell out of love with you
when i realized i felt more alone
with you than without

a letter to othello

an autobiography

glassea Jun 2015

an autobiography

i'm fragile, about to break,
on a one-way street to the end of the world -
but i'm great at hiding the cracks in my skin
with fool's gold and cheap paint

and

glassea Jul 2015

and

and i loved you like the ocean to the shore:
reaching, reaching, touching for a heartbeat -
before drawing back again, tentative.

and i missed you like the sun to the moon.
i guess we were never meant to touch.

and i forgot you like the water to the flame,
for you burned bright, once long ago,
until i turned you out and left you behind.

and you? [translation of alfonsina storni's ¿y tú?]

glassea Jun 2015

and you? [translation of alfonsina storni's ¿y tú?]

yes, i move, i live, i make mistakes;
water that flows and blends, i feel
the fierce vertigo of movement:
smell the jungles, touch new earth.

yes, i move, i search for anything
suns, auroras, storms and forgetting.
why are you here wretched and worn?
you are the rock that i pass by.

Sí, yo me muevo, vivo, me equivoco;
agua que corre y se entremezcla, siento
el vértigo feroz del movimiento:
huelo las selvas, tierra nueva toco.

Sí, yo me muevo, voy buscando acaso
soles, auroras, tempestad y olvido.
¿Qué haces allí misérrimo y pulido?
Eres la piedra a cuyo lado paso.

-- Alfonsina Storni, ¿Y tú?

---------

THIS IS NOT MY WORK. all rights go to alfonsina storni, whose copyright status i couldn't find because she's argentinian, but she's also been dead for more than 70 years, so. please let me know if you have more detailed information about the publication of this poem in particular.

went for meaning more than structure. translating is hard. I WANT TO DO MORE.
also have i mentioned how much i adore storni? this is easily my favorite of her poems. tu me quieres blanca? nah, y tu.
maybe i'll do another one for rhythm etc.

#translated #storni

an everyday atlas [OR: a ten word story (xv)]

glassea Jun 2015

an everyday atlas [OR: a ten word story (xv)]

waking up
is just as hard as
holding the sky

#depression

a new york times bestseller

glassea Feb 2016

a new york times bestseller

i finished this book the other day.
it had a hope-filled ending
but for me it was still a tragedy
because you weren't in it.

a poem in and of itself

glassea Nov 2015

a poem in and of itself

i love you beyond all imagining.

apology

glassea Jun 2015

apology

sorry about the blood on my hands
i swear it's not yours

muse = dead
i'm so sorry

asexual metaphors (again)

glassea May 2015

asexual metaphors (again)

imagine that you live in a world where, until you reach the age of sixteen, the food orzo is forbidden.

you've heard about orzo. how could you not? it's everywhere, because it seems like everybody loves orzo. orzo this, orzo that. for your whole life, you've heard about the glory of orzo. most people you know can't wait to try it. they talk about it all the time.

you, though, you've never had the overwhelming urge to eat orzo, not like it seems your peers do. still, you go along with it, because everybody else loves orzo and can't wait to try it.

eventually, you ask your dad whether he's always liked orzo. "yes," he says, "of course. you might not like it now, but you'll love it when you're older." he then shows you how to make orzo, even though you're not at all curious.

your peers have begun to try orzo. they all give glowing reviews. but despite their enthusiasm, it still seems kind of odd to you. why is everyone so worked up over orzo? what makes it so great?

life goes on. maybe you tried orzo. maybe you didn't. either way, you've decided it's not your thing. the only problem? no one else gets it. they all say, "what do you mean you don't like orzo? everybody likes orzo. maybe you just haven't found the right recipe yet." but you know that you don't like orzo. you probably never will. and everyone else thinks you strange for this.

this is what it's like to be asexual in this environment.

if you try to tell me my sexuality doesn't exist, i will throw you off a bridge. thank you for your time.

#asexual #asexuality

a ten word story

glassea Jan 2016

a ten word story

i said you were my bible -
heavy with ignorant words.

a ten word story

glassea Nov 2015

a ten word story

she has never quite realized the power held in words.