Design

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning Wreck That told no tale And let no Witness in

The mind was built for mighty Freight For dread occasion planned How often foundering at Sea Ostensibly, on Land

A not admitting of the wound Until it grew so wide That all my Life had entered it And there were troughs beside -

A closing of the simple lid That opened to the sun Until the tender Carpenter Perpetual nail it down -

Emily Dickinson, from Envelope Poems

The Queen

by Pablo Neruda tr. Donald D. Walsh

I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier.

But you are the queen.

When you go through the streets No one recognizes you. No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks At the carpet of red gold That you tread as you pass, The nonexistent carpet.

And when you appear All the rivers sound In my body, bells Shake the sky, And a hymn fills the world.

Only you and I, Only you and I, my love, Listen to it.

Just because I worked there does not mean I am not sick

I should be institutionalized, but I know all of their tricks

(I know I’m slipping further into mental illness to an alarming degree but I’m too traumatized from working in a psychiatric hospital to seek more intensive help than my weekly therapy and nightly Lexapro. I saw how my patients were treated and I quit because of it. Becoming one of them is a terrifying prospect)

Details, suicide of Lucretia by various artists, (1), (2), (3)

things from sappho to call your girlfriend

ἀστέρων πάντων ὀ κάλλιστος (of all the stars, the fairest)

πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα, χρύσω χρυσοτέρα (far sweeter-sounding than the lyre, far more golden than gold)

τὰν ἰόκολπον (violet-tressed, one with violets in her lap)

ὦ κάλα, ὦ χαρίεσσα κόρα (o beautiful, graceful girl)

ἦρος ἄγγελος ἰμερόφωνος ἀήδων (nightingale, sweet-voiced messenger of spring)

I have nuked the old account that I’ve had since I was probably about 13 or 14 years old and have started a new one to keep as my personal commonplace book/journal. I cannot seem to keep up with a regular journal, and I hope that the idea of posting things publicly will hold me somewhat accountable. However, nothing that I post here is really meant for anyone else’s viewing, only my own. With that disclaimer, please note that I may speak of my own trauma and some things may be triggering to others.

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Ohio Total Solar Eclipse

My jaw has unhinged itself again.

And I am shedding my skin.

It flakes off in small pieces,

revealing the delicate newness within

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath