three seagulls, four black kites, flocks of sea birds flying
in midair, suspended in the air suddenly, falling wildly, traumatised
eyes strike waves rougher, vivid incandescence, agonised
attacking the shore, piercing and intent, defying
a dead man's eyes, rough waves changing to ripples lying
beneath the sky, spreading beyond reefs and rocks, historicised
and memories, memorised scenes outlive experiences inhuman, recognised
and summoned, summoning up images magnifying
the psychic repression of desire uncomfortable, unbearable, surviving
is impossible, fear of losing light is imminent, immanency of light refused
to be penetrable, displacing immanency by equilibrium, imbalance in
flight, rebuked suspension of flying and falling in dim light, arriving
morning, horizontal hopes are unnoticeably bemused
dimming, whither, thereof being holistic

blue stones aligned to be a sign of fictive
internalisation, distanced, wellsprings polluted of genuineness
and consanguinity, remaining true means being incestuous as to acquiesce
to intense reflections of puzzling mechanical motions, predictable
cycles, cluttering, stuttering, dysmorphophobia, beating
being a habit of recommendation, pica, a craving, pleasing finesse
of those at stake, hope and sufferings, scenes of the sun's successive ingress
into Capricorn that are pernicious, indiscriminately
observed, related in a sentiment of losing, a burnoose draping
and draperies, an absence of fear and reverence
for blue light because of an acute awareness
of passing consisting of fits of modesty, escaping
no one's lips, of poshlost or cruelty told with reticence
generously, generous earthly names, unkind fairness

ambitious, surreptitious, the divine, habitats mesic
renounced, from the zenith to the horizon, blue the firmament, the heyday
of the Hohenzollern, hurrying stars challenging the sun, hues
unidentified for imputation, wild actions for massive
vile feasts, surrender although merciless, render mustered
defenders of night a promised glory of summer days, top hamper's
ephemeral shadows, read missals, winds high
nocturnal, sempiternal, temperaments submissive or passive, missives
from the gullible victimised given the defenders of divinity
toil and moil for wondrous eyes of immortals, look
to the future although worthless, perfumes of irascible
Arabia, all charged with statistics mendacious, an affinity
for false repudiation, parasitic Memphis inundated with unlucky
calls tendentious, sunglow tombolos put at risk

The Pandemic in Six-Word Memoirs
“The world has never felt smaller.”

By Larry Smith
Mr. Smith is the creator of Six Word Memoirs.

Since 2006, I’ve been challenging people to describe their lives in six words, a form I call the six-word memoir — a personal twist on the legendary six-word story attributed to Ernest Hemingway: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

I’ve found that some of the most memorable six-word stories arise in the extremes — during our toughest and most joyous moments. So over the past several months, I’ve asked adults and children around the country to use the form to make sense of this moment in history: one person, one story, and six words at a time.

Not a criminal, but running masked.
— Stella Kleinman

Every day’s a bad hair day.
— Leigh Giza

Home ec: rationing butter, bourbon, sanity.
— Christine Triano

Cinemagraph
Can’t smell the campfire on Zoom.
— Melanie Abrams

Deserted crowded Manhattan, my own island …
— Elisa Shevitz

Eighth hour of YouTube. Send Help!
— Leela Chandra

Cinemagraph
Messy hair, messy room, messy thoughts.
— Lily Herman

I regret saying, “I hate school.”
— Riana Heffron

Read every book in the house.
— Francesca Gomez-Novy

Cinemagraph
Never-ending, but boredom doesn’t faze me.
— Lily Gold

Required school supplies: screens, screens, screens.
— Darshana Chandra

Won scrabble; smile breaks through mask.
— Abby Ellin

Cinemagraph
Tuning out parents, under my headphones.
— Lukas Smith

This is what time looks like.
— Sylvia Sichel


Bad time for an open marriage.
— Rachel Lehmann-Haupt

Cinemagraph
Sun-kissed lips? Not kissed this year.
— Twanna Hines

Avoiding death, but certainly not living.
— Sydney Reimann

Social distancing myself from the fridge.
— Maria Leopoldo

Cinemagraph
Dream of: heat, limbs, crowds, concerts.
— Amy Turn Sharp

Teacher finding inspiration through uneasy times.
— April Goodman

Slowly turning into a technological potato.
— Jad Ammar

Cleaned Lysol container with Lysol wipe.
— Alex Wasser

Cinemagraph
Hallway hike, bathtub swim, Pandora concert.
— Susan Evind

Numbers rise, but sun does too.
— Paloma Lenz

Afraid of: snakes, heights, opening schools.
— Michelle Wolff

The world has never felt smaller.
— Maggie Smith

Cinemagraph
How do you make sense of this moment in history?

Share your own six-word memoir in the comments. We’ll feature some of our favorites in a future article.

i dont understand why i let you confess
all the things i’d inevitably contest
i cannot explain why i can feel so stressed
my emotions are so still, ungrown, repressed

you only let me hurt myself
these wounds secure your place in hell

you can only show the things you loathe, detest
shrink me down to what you understand, success
my explosive temper is a second guess
under my control, suggestion, hate, contest

My beloved
You make me for get my chores, the fact that I have a brain instead of a heart
Belove
I fantasize about kissing you, your touch, having *** with you, sleeping with you
Beloved
All I want is your smiling eyes, tender kisses and your gentleness



‎محبوبي
‎ أنت تجعلني أنجز أعمالي الروتينية ، حقيقة أن لدي دماغًا بدلاً من قلب
‎ محبوب
‎ أتخيل تقبيلك ، لمستك ، ممارسة الجنس معك ، النوم معك
‎ محبوب
‎ كل ما أريده هو عيناك المبتسمتان ، قبلاتك الرقيقة ووداعتك

Abandoned in the middle of the blasted field,
its arms shredded, legs battered,
the chair exists in broken splendor
catching the best of the speckled light
dancing in the quivering shadows.
Lines of the seated father stain the backrest,
motherly molds are left behind in the seat foam,
the relentless kicks, tattoos of children’s feet
bruise the red velvet of the front rail.

At dawn, pulses of light run along its rails
dispersing all shadows to the wet ground.
At the speed of forgetfulness
two robins alight on this storm orphan,
widow, widower, this sole survivor,
with twigs to build a new stick home.