Landscape
There is no unburdening, no resurrection
in the objects light bends around. Across the open
ground, I’m running and dying in equal array.
My mom had a cousin who died because he thought
drinking made his voice sound richer. The walls of the heart
build up like feet of water behind a dam. Whatever kind of
human being I was going to be I already am. When I say
I love you, I mean our destiny is in being forgotten. I
started detaching myself from the impulses of living
because they started to detach from me.
Knowing something is not the same as inhabiting that space,
as experiencing in equal pulses the things defined
as trauma when witnessed from the inside.
Control Burn
Heaven and hell exist to justify our suffering
I depressed because I’m depressed or am I
depressed because the world is depression
inducing? The bay keeps washing up the bodies
of everyone who jumps into it but I only imagine
the climb up, the aperture of space. The water
is shallower than it looks, even if they want to
dredge the bottom. It’s the fall but one already undertaken
from the moment terminal velocity reaches us. From
the perspective of the lens, we’re all on the verge
of leaping, or the forgiveness of those who already leapt. I tell
the worst versions of myself to justify my suffering, to make sense
of all the needles in all the parts of the body that used to
exist for pleasure, for operation, alone.
Amish Trivedi is the author of three books, with FuturePanic (Co•Im•Press) out in November of 2021. He has an MFA from Brown University, a PhD from Illinois State and is a Post Doctoral Researcher at the University of Delaware.
SPOT IMAGE CREATED BY WARINGA HUNJA
HMS is an arts & culture nonprofit (Hypertext Magazine & Studio) with two programs: HMS empowers adults by teaching creative writing techniques; HMS’ independent press amplifies emerging and established writers’ work by giving their words a visible home. Buy a lit journal (or two) in our online store and/or consider donating.
