5d
I am a crystal
Barely, I glow
But I glow;
I glow in blue
I can’t help think
The dark is brutal
Yet stays the light
My hues and like
Won’t pass its strait
Arrested Celestine;
I wait
Baby moths are landing
rarely onto my faces making
their delicacy all the more
apparent between visits,
and no visits
I am breasting
I cleave and grow
Yet I grow;
I grow in blue
I can’t help think
The edge of sight
Within its black
Will so attack
My fragile, opaque
Arrested Celestine;
I wait
The first month I budded,
understanding nothing much,
there was still an understanding
that I existed at the stage
Where all these other crystal weaves
had succeeded at first,
making, in the cave, definitions of me
Later, I felt the pressure of ten tonnes
of Earth beckon behind us to move
And that was at least instinctual,
and I moved very slowly
for a few decades
I am a crystal
Bearing and I bloom
Don’t watch me bloom;
I bloom in blue
I can’t help think
The way is brutal
Where neither fight,
Nor flight is quite
Applicable to
Arrested Celestine;
I wait
One confining night (or day)
you responded that you loved me too,
and echoes of that scared the dark
It was very sudden then, the light
that threatens so to shake me loose
I caught myself shining, and I think
I shined in pink
I am Celestine
Making me blue
And I glow;
I glow in blue
I can’t help think
The few breaths I see
Baby moths take
Makes me make
Willing faces
That bounce more light;
I wait
A half day later you found me
growing up. By chance, I’m the
smallest formation, sticking out
There is no sky but the air
is discovering along beside you
My glowing blue suddenly relevant,
there’s felt hands along the cave
until baby moths are scared into
corners where my color shines through
Arrested Celestine
Is making me blue
but I shine;
I shine in pink
I can’t help think
The dark is brutal
So scares the light
The more it’s like
You love me too
Brightest Celestine;
I make
Barely, I glow
But I glow;
I glow in blue
I can’t help think
The dark is brutal
Yet stays the light
My hues and like
Won’t pass its strait
Arrested Celestine;
I wait
Baby moths are landing
rarely onto my faces making
their delicacy all the more
apparent between visits,
and no visits
I am breasting
I cleave and grow
Yet I grow;
I grow in blue
I can’t help think
The edge of sight
Within its black
Will so attack
My fragile, opaque
Arrested Celestine;
I wait
The first month I budded,
understanding nothing much,
there was still an understanding
that I existed at the stage
Where all these other crystal weaves
had succeeded at first,
making, in the cave, definitions of me
Later, I felt the pressure of ten tonnes
of Earth beckon behind us to move
And that was at least instinctual,
and I moved very slowly
for a few decades
I am a crystal
Bearing and I bloom
Don’t watch me bloom;
I bloom in blue
I can’t help think
The way is brutal
Where neither fight,
Nor flight is quite
Applicable to
Arrested Celestine;
I wait
One confining night (or day)
you responded that you loved me too,
and echoes of that scared the dark
It was very sudden then, the light
that threatens so to shake me loose
I caught myself shining, and I think
I shined in pink
I am Celestine
Making me blue
And I glow;
I glow in blue
I can’t help think
The few breaths I see
Baby moths take
Makes me make
Willing faces
That bounce more light;
I wait
A half day later you found me
growing up. By chance, I’m the
smallest formation, sticking out
There is no sky but the air
is discovering along beside you
My glowing blue suddenly relevant,
there’s felt hands along the cave
until baby moths are scared into
corners where my color shines through
Arrested Celestine
Is making me blue
but I shine;
I shine in pink
I can’t help think
The dark is brutal
So scares the light
The more it’s like
You love me too
Brightest Celestine;
I make
from october 17, 2022
poem from the past a day #52
a vibes based sequel to Baby moths.
mostly, i think these two poems are cute.
cute and devastating and cute.
i'm going to spoil the poems that will follow this one: none of them come even close to this quality. if not in content, than in ability, this is my writing peak. i know i've said before that some given poem of mine is "the best thing i've ever written", and that may be true, but for where i am as a writer, i essentially left off right here. i'm going to have to get back to this level to even grow in the first place. it was effortless here. i felt like i could type any word and a stanza would spring from that, neverending.
here's a little insight into how i write. there's two ways a poem can start: from a couple lines popping into my head, or from a singular phrase that i usually conceptualize as the title. in this instance it was just the phrase "Arrested Celestine" i didn't know *what it could mean*, but i *had* to write about it. (for the previous poem, Baby moths, it was the first stanza popping into my head). so crystals are easy, it turns out. they're a really easy thing to make metaphors from. this is a trans metaphor. crystals can glow, they reflect, refract, they can grow, bud, breast, cleave, or bloom. but what if the crystal felt like it wasn't growing right? maybe it feels arrested. maybe it grows in defiance of itself. maybe it grows wrong. celestine is, first, a beautiful three syllables. also, celestine is blue. i want to be pink. then, Celeste is a trans video game. that's only relevant as far as it added celestine to my vocabulary, my burning wheel of words that speak themselves over and over inside my brain. with all of that said: Arrested Celestine, i made.
poem from the past a day #52
a vibes based sequel to Baby moths.
mostly, i think these two poems are cute.
cute and devastating and cute.
i'm going to spoil the poems that will follow this one: none of them come even close to this quality. if not in content, than in ability, this is my writing peak. i know i've said before that some given poem of mine is "the best thing i've ever written", and that may be true, but for where i am as a writer, i essentially left off right here. i'm going to have to get back to this level to even grow in the first place. it was effortless here. i felt like i could type any word and a stanza would spring from that, neverending.
here's a little insight into how i write. there's two ways a poem can start: from a couple lines popping into my head, or from a singular phrase that i usually conceptualize as the title. in this instance it was just the phrase "Arrested Celestine" i didn't know *what it could mean*, but i *had* to write about it. (for the previous poem, Baby moths, it was the first stanza popping into my head). so crystals are easy, it turns out. they're a really easy thing to make metaphors from. this is a trans metaphor. crystals can glow, they reflect, refract, they can grow, bud, breast, cleave, or bloom. but what if the crystal felt like it wasn't growing right? maybe it feels arrested. maybe it grows in defiance of itself. maybe it grows wrong. celestine is, first, a beautiful three syllables. also, celestine is blue. i want to be pink. then, Celeste is a trans video game. that's only relevant as far as it added celestine to my vocabulary, my burning wheel of words that speak themselves over and over inside my brain. with all of that said: Arrested Celestine, i made.
(26/Michigan)
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