"Next morning I'll confess I overmarmaladed
the toast on purpose, trying to make up
for the chromatic deficiency, for orangelessness,
though the sky begins to show at times
we can observe, now, look -"
It's outrageous! Infuriating!
Every life is a tragic arc,
and there's nothing to be done
to bend it otherwise.
Watching a train wreck
while on the train,
Our best hope?
To be
numb.
We write poetry constantly, unknowingly,
in our endless gush of posts.
I say this ferociously, unjokingly.
We write poetry constantly, unknowingly,
whether heroically or stoically,
humbly mumbled or in boasts.
We write poetry constantly, unknowingly,
in our endless gush of posts.
Je suis très fière qu'un de mes haïkus a été sélectionné pour l'ouvrage collectif bilingue par 139 auteur.e.s, 'PARIS flânerie / PARIS strolling', coordonné par M. Dominique Chipot. Pour plus d'informations: 👇🏽