Ilana's Poem...

Ilana's poem inspired me to start writing again, especially since I've been feeling quite useless and less creative then ever. So I suppose she's restored my faith in looseleaf, and for that, I thank you over and over again. I also wrote this while listening to the playlist I made for the magazine after avoiding it since I submitted it. Ilana, this is for you, but it's not about you.

I can't tell anymore,
I'm certain that's selfish
but reassurance--

you've grown,
out of what I assumed were forests,
to an unforgiving city.

I've loved you.
Through labor
we age stereotypes.

But I can't do wrong by you,
every symphony knows that,
I can manage;
under and over
pulled tight,
kissed goodnight.
Wished on the moon for a visit,
wished on the grass for your sake.

hand in hand,
walking on planes and heads.

Screw eyes.
Damn ours.

Dearest muse,
you've done wrong
you've too comfortable,
you've been accounted for
in fields, towers, subways, and moss.

I'll always hope,
as you bow,
my mind is yours,
so we can laugh and sleep



"a pretty girl with broken wings is all that I desire"
Song: Sense, Sensibility Artist: Andrew Jackson Jihad
again.