Wednesday, November 7, 2012

clubbed hands


the time I killed the butterfly on accident,
wings all hole and shred, little cigarette
tipped scars without burn, but
before my hands trapped
the butterfly to the ground—
white, whole as a jug of
milk, and fulled enough to be the moon.

dusting wings beat
against my fingers with
a knifing heart, and I
mistook the panic of
filmy frantic veins
for something gentle as an eyelash,
a slow blink beneath my prison-fingers

what is it about these hands
what is it about this touch

4 comments:

  1. "a knifing heart, and I
    mistook the panic of
    filmy frantic veins"

    <3

    ReplyDelete
  2. did I ever tell you about the time that I met the dying moth and the medical student that tried to save it with human tears. This poem reminds me of that. Chloe, I trolled you. I feel bad about it. And good about it. I want to press you. I want Novi to expand you and not to denigrate you. Tell me how to be better. Call me if you want.

    ReplyDelete
  3. i knew it was you jordan. of course i did. who else would say the thing about english majors? you would. which is why i made a passive aggressive post on my blog about novicember that i knew you would see and that you did and that you let me know you saw and none of this is a revelation to either of us, i think? the internet is ridiculous. other people are reading this right now and thinking this is ridiculous. i also think that.

    i remember reading that poem of yours. i thought it was very pretty.

    all i want to do on novicember is write a shitty poem a day and that's all. even if it's awful. and if the poem is bad i don't want to feel like a bad person or like a not-cool person, even though i might in actuality be both, i just want to be a person who writes shitty, not-cool poetry and takes without-a-hitch easily passed shits and falls asleep at night not feeling like i have to prod at my anxieties and mental instability with a sharp stick in order to produce art, that's all i want really, and i don't know how much of that even comes from you and how much of these ideas about art come from the world at large. this is long. i don't care. i'm publishing it

    ReplyDelete
  4. well I am glad to know that we are both acute enough to know what's up.

    I hadn't intended to be mean, but then you gave me an opportunity with your reply, so I took it. I guess the poem itself I found frustrating--like, it's really hard for me to read something where the writer is like 'this is shitty writing and I don't like it' within the piece itself. It meta-as-hell or something but it feels manipulative and creepy. I know it's just a poem, and we just write these things so we will have things written or why ever we do this. But even a quick poem is a big thing.

    Anyway, some days I want Novi to be workshop and some days I want it to be anti-workshop and hopefully it never becomes either. I like you. I like whoever else is reading our conversation. Thank you for conversing with me.

    ReplyDelete