21 Apr Klara Feenstra
HOW TO BE HERE
I know the waveform of an um
the bile and tongue
and tooth and security
and I. This profanity, still ill and sacrificial,
this promise of forever
always comes before
But in this room
anything but the swarm
is so pedestrian as
the strings and the autoharp,
are sick cumulative spheres.
A distant logic scattered now on the neurons.
My toe dips in, a thigh, a hip,
(a warm bath),
then to bed with you where we will stay for a day or a week
(a black bubble)
with all the gold webbing above our heads.
and the side effects
and the implications
and the so urgent
in the hapless joints of
the full body and heavy head
I work so hard,
To be here now with the sound and salt
your words ringing as if they were text.
We write into concrete
any object at all
all that talk – all that promise.
You do it
the way you dance to and not with the song.
We have ummed so much
that surely to not
not do it
not like a hair I pull from my throat
a so sense of
where we are
is so not
it is so not.
PLEASE STOP THE IMMEDIACY
a colour wheel with every shade of red
the same shade of red,
every bitmapped spec of mars
to stitch together
into a cohesive sit still on which my stillness will spin
I want to sit still in
still in and moving through.
there’s so much science,
there’s so much of I am a physicist
weighing out all the
anger presenting it to you with perfect proportions
to get you all blue
but then not too blue
a concept album.
talking behind everyone’s backs to myself.
my bitter mind
is harvesting all the world’s beauty
and I’m not paying one penny.
all this romance so swollen so puffy cheeks,
so sick feeling so sick getting.
perhaps it’s all too obvious but
opinions are fleshy
asked to feel
and all there is is a loose hangnail.
I know this is not enough
but it’s soft and sweet for now,
seasoned right and all that.
Isn’t it lovely to be loved like that?
I do think so
so much of a lot of love in my life and it is sticky
and when I pull it off it’s like waxing my thighs
Imagine not prickly legs forever.
okay, this is not a whole.
I love you but you are just a moment for resting in –
I am finished and time has dried up anyway
all of it has brought me to this place
where I can find a whole in segments presented to me
and build a person – lay them next to me and hold them tight
nibble on their open wound
the hard wrapping around the soft.
Klara Feenstra is a poet from London with upcoming publications in Lighthouse, shufPoetry, SoFloPoJo, and more. She cares about phenomenology and chords in the key of A major. IG: @kqueenstra