she stood upon the balcony

a poem from the archives

I wrote this poem as part of an exquisite corpse series in 2021, a kind of rotating group art project resembling a game of telephone. If you are stuck in a creative rut, this kind of anything-goes approach with prompts & deadlines is a perfect way to remind yourself that creating art is meant to be fun.

---

she stood upon the balcony
to glimpse her lover fair;
she stood upon the balcony
as if without a care.

she, upon the balcony stood
and buried her turmoil deep;
she, upon the balcony stood
and considered endless sleep.

upon the balcony, she stood
the balustrade gripped tight;
upon the balcony, she stood
and wished with all her might

that if she stood upon this balcony
as a statue oh so still
and squeezed her eyes as tight as she could
and swallowed this bitter pill

that they would be there when she needed,
that they would someday feel free.
for what if this is all there is,
the balcony, 

and she?

---

good things on the internet

• Kate Manne questions numbness over anger (very relatable!) 😡

• “Why the Irish Republican Army canonically exists in the Cars universe” 🚗

• Minnesotan state fair crop art WOW 🌱

currently reading

• The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab: A riveting return to the world of the Darker Shades series from one of my all-time favorite fantasy writers.

• Woman Running in the Mountains by Yuko Tsushima: I picked this up at Powell’s in Portland earlier this summer, and read it in a feverish 48 hours last weekend. A moving narrative steeped in natural imagery that follows a young woman in the first year of her child’s life.

• Playing Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain by Jamil Jan Kochai: A moving example of how powerful short stories can be.

• A FEMINOMENOLOGY OF CHAPPELL ROAN by Catherine Zimmer:

“Chappell Roan, in numerous ways, embodies the analog. What she ends up offering us is a pop performer that’s able to acknowledge, not just in words but with actual logistics, that life is hard and confusing because of the material conditions of being a young, queer person in this country, but to do so with the capacity for love and joy and fun. And it turns out this is something that we really wanted, maybe needed, to see, hear, and feel.”

this week’s jam

photo of my cats

Image description: Kerouac (right) smooshes his face into Muir.