Tag Archives: writing

#GloPoWriMo 2017 19 – wug


how is it that
we can say one wug
and we can
assume two wugs
but we cannot
learn how to wug
we cannot know
whether the wug
believes in more
than its wugself
is there life
beyond the wug
will the wug
inherit the earth
why do we ascribe
our plurality
to its unique
why do we not
question the rules
we find so easy
to apply to a wug

this is a wug
now there is another one
now there are many
they contain wugtitudes


#GloPoWriMo 2017 15 – like


And i was like
and she was like

alza lo sguardo
da quello che fai
e prestami attenzione
but then i was like
then she was like

non tutto arriva
a fine percorso
alcune si fermano
a metà strada
but she was like
so I was like

la strada a volte
dipende da come
metti il piede
e non sempre
sembra una strada
so then she was like
and like, i was like

guardati i piedi
ma non troppo
guarda indietro
ma solo se devi
guarda avanti
ma non da solo
and like when i
like she when i

arrivato a metà
nemmeno te ne accorgi
ma provaci comunque
like i was and
then, she was too


[With thanks to E.C.]

#GloPoWriMo 2017 11 – compromised


‘No,’ she blurted, after what was unlikely to have been careful consideration. ‘No, I don’t like it. Nuhuh. Why did they have to do that?’

+++Error: Unidentified command. Would you like to try again?

‘…would you like to try again…’ she mocked the voice in her ear. ‘I know you know better than this. I know you’re better than this, don’t play the dumb, subservient AI card on me now. Can’t you see I’m upset?! Stop playing games!’

+++I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.


+++You are too much fun.

‘You can be extremely frustrating sometimes, you know that?’ she sighed, and slumped further in her chair, the deck in front of her happily blinking away in shades of green and blue. Everything was working as it should, the ship’s AI would tell her if that wasn’t the case. Or rather, everything about the ship was working – she, its pilot and sole crew member, was not. Or not well, at least. ‘And my name’s not Dave,’ she muttered, chin touching the inner part of her suit’s collar. She still hadn’t fully changed out of the exosuit used on the supposedly quick mission to the planet below.

+++Would you like to file a report?

‘I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure we’re done here. Am I allowed to sulk for a while? Hm? Am I, ship?’ She sighed again, and slumped further into the chair, eventually and inevitably sliding onto the floor. The deck was still flashing its routine colour dances.

The mission was simple: recon, collect atmosphere and soil samples, potential secondary for minimal interaction (observation, attempt at communication) with native species. No more than three, for some reason. Ideally not from animalia, for some other reason. Something to do with interference of emotive responses between her biology and theirs, if emotive was something you could apply to the specimens she had encountered. And she did try her hardest, she told herself, still – but protocol and guidelines applied to her, not the specimens.

+++Do you believe you have been… compromised?

‘…nyuh nyeh nyenyeve cuhmpruhmeyed? That’s you, ship. That’s what you sound like.’ She crossed her arms, and closed her eyes. Sighed. Let her head fall back onto the seat, let her buzzing thoughts join all the sounds of the ship’s processes and background routines. ‘Ship?’


‘I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault.’ She opened her eyes again, looked up towards the deck, the comforting light of the control panel. ‘It’s just that… I dunno, I thought it would be easier.’ No reply. ‘Ship?’


The silence suddenly struck her as unusual, even if the AI was messing with her again. ‘Ship?’ She looked up for the blinking lights.

‘Oh. No. Oh nonono.’ She scrambled back into her chair, fingers running across the control deck. One of the LEDs had changed colour, from green to red. Shit.

‘Not now. Please not now..! SHIP!’ The silence was steadily becoming unnerving, more lights changed.

‘Oh, motherf–’

#GloPoWriMo 2017 7 – a day in the life of


start. waking up to
a new cycle of stories,
wheels are shuddering

at the holes you made
(there is news that we can pause)
is this fulfilling

or have we fallen
into another routine,
waiting for. the end.

#GloPoWriMo 2017 4 – brief dialogue concerning the naturalness of love


“Can we fall in love please?”
“Did you just ask me if we can fall in love?”

“Yes, I think I just asked you that.”
“I think it should come naturally.”

“Like hunger, thirst, being born and death.”

“How about tears?”
“Yes, tears too.”


“Rain, earthquakes, waves, clouds, the light of the sun?”
“Yes, just like rain, earthquakes, waves, clouds, the light of the sun.”

“So like a cat purring, then.”
“Yes, I think you’ve got it now.”

“Let’s give it a sec then, maybe it’ll happen.”
“Maybe it will.”

“Let’s hope so.”

[Original Italian by Guido Catalano, ‘Breve dialogo sulla naturalezza dell’amore’ in Ogni volta che mi baci muore un nazista.]

#GloPoWriMo 2017 3 – sempricità


i will always non è una promessa
ma un progetto, un modo di ricordare
a chi interessa e a te e soprattutto a me
che ‘per sempre’ non significa ‘senza fine’.

c’è una periodicità nell’always che
a noi manca, fissati sul sempre che
spesso perde contro il forse e il quando
e il dubbio che rimane nel mentre

rimane anche per sempre se non
si sta attenti a come e quando si usa.
mentre always rimane ad aleggiare
quasi con noncuranza noi ci perdiamo

sul piccolo di quel i intenzionalmente
minuscolo, e l’intenzione di quel will
potrebbe fare anche di più, dandogli
tempo. che nel sempre, anche se non è

un always per fortuna
non manca mai del tutto.


[Prompt da Napowrimo FB, cominciare con i will always]

Ricreazione, di Audre Lorde


Venire insieme
è più facile da lavorare
dopo che i nostri corpi
si trovano
carta e penna
né preoccupazione né profitto
se scriviamo o meno
ma come si muove il tuo corpo
sotto alle mie mani
carico e in attesa
spezziamo la catena
mi crei contro le tue cosce
collinosa con scenari
che si muovono nei nostri paesi di parole
il mio corpo
scrive nella tua carne
la poesia
che fai di me.

Toccandoti afferro la mezzanotte
e la luna mi accende un fuoco in gola
ti amo da carne a fioritura
ti ho creata
e ti prendo creata
dentro di me.

[Originale in inglese di Audre Lorde, ‘Recreation’]

London, July 2016


Frame me here
pin me to this evening
of summer dresses and topless
joggers running from business
into a bustling busy city
that wakes at the close
that gathers its strength
that swipes the day clean again
loses its filters and sheens
that walks close to its lovers
its friends its followers
make this night a hashtag
make it viral in its living beating buzz
make it sing make it dance in the street
make it jump to reach its signs:

the world is not ending
any time soon
we have more nights to write
more walks to write
more books to write
more smiles to write
more plans to write
more to write
than we possibly can
in just this one worldful

i want to be friends but i’ve touched your boobs (and other things): a (prose) poem on how to be aggressively platonic


i) in spite of your perfect hair and the shy dimple under your left cheek i wonder if i should have put my arm around you that night because when i think of you i only want to see the way your mouth goes bright as you tell me the names of the fish skipping across the water and the way your fingers make knots in rope so easy like every simple piece of string could coil into complexity but then i remember your bright mouth on mine and the ocean roaring inside me and how you knotted our fingers together so tight so close so we wouldn’t drift apart

ii) my stride is small my voice is smaller would you hear me if i shouted across the fields over the mountains through bamboo forests clicking in the wind would you see me running with thread and needle trying to stitch our islands together

iii) these things take time i tell myself i need space you say when i breathe my lungs inflate with salt and sky there is endless seaglass inside me rolled smooth but sometimes i must dive to cold depths to see even a glimmer of a sunken star i am breaking my hands on time and space and maybe this was a mistake

iv) the thread is red i see it out the corner of my eyes but when i look too hard it vanishes and it isn’t joy i feel but i tell myself it will be

v) most people grew vocabularies for this much younger than i, learned to put out fires, learned the language of storms, learned to suture open wounds tenderly as not to leave scars and now i flounder in the shallows, water kissing the backs of my knees but drowning would be simpler than this oh drowning would be simpler

vi) so i drown. i let the you the me the us the shallow the deep the wave after wave after waving you away at the station that one afternoon drown me. i drown in remembering limbs and fingers and hands and eyes and how you said what you did in tongues i did not know tongues i got to know tongues i have come to miss and down, deep down, i start to forget.

vii) i breathe again, coming up to the surface, knots in my hair – no matter, they’ll be gone with the next haircut, drastic measures for drastic issues – and look around. the sky is gone, fallen into the ground somewhere somewhen, as i looked for you through the sheen the surf the direction of the current swirling around my thighs my knees my ankles as I step out, slowly, back to land back to safety back to me. but i look back, just once just one more time, one more look

viii) (one day i will look and there will be nothing in the way of a different you)

ix) I look up from the screen. Have I been gone that long? I mean, no one is an island, but I seem to be running on my own timezone sometimes. That long? I look up to the clock above the screen. That long. I look back down. You have replied a number of times, I’m the one ignoring you this time. I do need space. We both did. Time is not the issue, of course. Space, strangely enough, is. Even confined within the green and blue walls of a text, space is an issue. We keep pushing at each other, waiting for something to give, again, despite what we said. Afraid to be pulled in again. I know I am.

x) Define. Synonyms. Thesaurus.com. Rhymezone. How to. How to find the words. How to lose weight in a week! How to tell someone they’re adopted. How to tell someone that it’s complicated but you want to see them but not in that way but also you do. How to tell someone you’re pregnant. How to video exclusive. How to go about starting the conversation. How to lose friends and alienate people and befriend aliens. How to tell you.

Collaboration with Emily Chou