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Poetry and Favorite Bits of Street Art

So i intended to share some of what I've been producing while on this grant, I've just been *incredibly lazy* and hadn't gotten around.

I finished a poetry chapbook manuscript, and am working on a second one at the moment because why the hell not, so I'm going to share some of my favorite pieces I've written, and some of my favorite street art!

Enjoy,

--Claudia

i want to create

with just my hands

until my fingers bleed

and I can’t tell the difference between

blood and ink

--fortitude

Sitting on the tomb

of the woman i was named after,

I’m left with an empty feeling.

I feel like I’m supposed to grieve

but I never knew her.

I feel like I’m supposed to feel anything

but I don’t.

Nobody was even sure of when she was born,

only when she passed. A single date.

My dad says I am bit like her,

she wasn’t giving with her money

but she was giving with her soul.

I guess I’m halfway there

--1980

I am being strangled

by my own mistakes.

Red yarn, going on for miles

looping around my neck

and wrists--

sometimes blades aren’t enough

to break the knots.

Sometimes, teeth are necessary.

I’ve been gnawing at this yarn for years.

Don’t forget to floss,

it does you no good to be careless.

--String Bridges/Rose-Colored Nooses

Red bomber jacket boy,

with the two white stripes along the sleeves,

I know you must be cold

and your fingers must hurt

grasping that bouquet of roses.

Your face looks like you’ve been holding them for an eternity,

I understand.

You are exhausted.

--Holding Hands/Holding Hearts

I remember

at some cousin’s wedding around 8 years ago

my uncle making a speech dedicated to the bride and his son

stating that love

isn’t enough.

I know he said more after that,

But I wasn’t paying attention.

I don’t think I’ve been paying attention since

--Doubt is Hazardous But Inevitable

I want to press my palms against your skin

similarly to how I’d straighten out your bedsheets

when you step out for a cigarette

gently undoing all the wrinkles our bodies left in the beige

flattening-out and re-tucking the duvet

as if I didn't completely dismantle your picturesque bedroom

or picturesque silhouette

--Let Me Make Your Bed


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