In what remains of my generation, two cousins died this week.
Being of Claire's generation, I've thought about writing something like this but I know I could never get it as right as she has. Thank you, Claire.
Ooooof — what a beautiful poem. Feels so deeply honest and like it only hints at those depths both at the same time. Thank you for sharing x
"I finish my yogurt but leave the corn to waste
with what remains. Outside the wind kicks
down a slender moringa tree, the first to go."
This strikes me as one of the the saddest triads I've ever encountered. It's too delicate to be alarming and too forceful to be elegiac. One bites back tears--because they're too easy, too handy, too superficial.
Being of Claire's generation, I've thought about writing something like this but I know I could never get it as right as she has. Thank you, Claire.
Ooooof — what a beautiful poem. Feels so deeply honest and like it only hints at those depths both at the same time. Thank you for sharing x
"I finish my yogurt but leave the corn to waste
with what remains. Outside the wind kicks
down a slender moringa tree, the first to go."
This strikes me as one of the the saddest triads I've ever encountered. It's too delicate to be alarming and too forceful to be elegiac. One bites back tears--because they're too easy, too handy, too superficial.