I realize there is simply no way
to stay up in the air with a sustained flapping motion. Sucks!
But that doesn't mean I can't try.
How odd to eat only white bread for levity. In spite
of its limitations, you must consider the possibilities
of leaping, daily. Whatever monster ails you,
leap into the cool wind. I hope you consider me an authority.
You don't know what this means. Yet.
I have the necessary education
for this type of work. I will imitate the sound
of your father laughing into a microphone
through a public address system in your place of work.
How did that idea get into these instructions?
I'm going to put stickers on the back of your shirt
that will instruct people how to behave around you.
Then, I'll leap through the air above you when you exit the subway.
I just wanted to give you these instructions in a nutshell.
"Trembling in the dew. / Dancing in the fog." Seriously Well by Helge Torvund
“Trembling in the dew. / Dancing in the fog.” Seriously Well by Helge Torvund @thesongcave @Norwegianbooks #NorwegianLit
Can you
instead of
grieving the awful
deeds you have done,
or shuddering
dread the horror
that may come,
enjoy the fact
that you are
seriously well?
With a work of poetry that arises from an experience of significant illness, one might expect a to travel a familiar pathway through diagnosis, treatment and recovery—a healing journey. In his book-length poem, Seriously Well, Norwegian poet Helge…
Just a preview but heavens these guys make me want to animate (and suffer by virtue)
(Psst, I would appreciate if you check my now official twt post of this, as it's also been reuploaded by someone who isn't me!)
Greedling's introduction is actually really funny because Greed does the typical evil possession rant about "your friend's gone I'm the only one left!" and Ed looks into his eyes midfight and is like "I know Ling's still in there" and it seems like the set up to some long epic struggle where Ed will have to reach out to Ling to prove he's still alive and help him overpower Greed
And then maybe two hours later Greed tracks Ed and Al down like "hey I have a message from Ling could you give it to Lan Fan for us? No clue what it says but that's probably fine. anyway don't try to foil our evil plans! or do I don't actually give a shit. later losers."
When I begin a poem I often do so
because I love black people.
When I choose not to write
a poem I still love black people.
If I write I love black people
it’s because I love black people.
If I don’t write I love black people
I still love black people. Every metaphor,
every simile is rooted in the fact
I love black people. Even if I forgo
figurative language altogether I still
love black people. Whenever I start
an essay or a short story or novel
I can feel all the way to the very bottom
of my soul that I love black people.
Those times when I stare
at the blank white screen or page
I may despair that I cannot show
or testify how much I love black
people and want other black people
and all people to love black people. But
it is enough to know deep in my soul
and heart how much I love black people
and to say and urge others to say
publicly that they love black
people which is to say I have learned
to love myself and to love black people
and to recognize that despite all that
we face in the world from the moment
of our birth to the day we die
that even the black period that will end
this poem is a sign and seal
to me and anyone who cares
that I love black people.