#wordalchemy
Not just the stumbles, not just the fumbles,
but a heart that humbles.
I am more than an evil veil of night.
For thou who truly understandest,
I am more than what thy eyes behold.
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 5:16 AM UTC
"The heavenly stars are on fire,"
you wrote—so I traced their embers in your lines,
but where’s the smoke?
Perhaps it lingers between syllables,
between a stick figure future and a melting past,
between the chaos you ransom
and the whispers you inflame.
"Some locks need two keys,"
you mused—so tell me, Anaïs,
does poetry need two voices to unlock a moment?
Because your words unfasten thought,
weave mischief into meaning,
turn science into sentiment—
each stanza a blade, a bloom, a rebellion.
You run from hackneyed halls,
freewheeling with Johnny Cash,
eluding rulers and repressive lies—
and somehow, still, you pause
to drop a pizza emoji, a signature,
a hunger that ink alone won’t satisfy.
So tell me, Yale’s ink-stained philosopher,
do you write in crust and cheese too?
Does every stanza deserve a side of marinara?
Because if poetry is fuel,
then surely, you are proof
that pizza and prose
can both be divine addictions.
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 1:41 PM UTC