A blog and burrow by Nicole Buzzelli
Shapeless
The more lines I draw, the less shape I got. But I guess, the more shape too.
when you forget what you are made from
Spend the summer months
mouthing the unspeakable.
Spend fall holding your tongue.
By the time winter comes,
be done with words altogether.
Bow your head and empty its
contents into the dirt.
Ode to Limits
My first pair of glasses bridged my nose
at eight. Grow in thickness every year.
'And what about laser?' they all ask.
After sporting them for less than a minute.
After laughing. After handing them back.
'I could,' I always say
because I could.
I could, but what would I lose?
The Half Bad Poem
I never remember the thirst in my body until it rains
and my chest starts heaving thank god thank god.
At the End
At the end of time,
I'll sit under the palo verde and let the beetles have their way.
I'll pray that each little
yellow becomes a new sun. But if they don't, I'll let them dapple
around me like little stars
and know that it was enough. I'll let the birds live on in their lightning storm and not worry about them too much.
