how to talk with strangers: collaborative generating #2

Where were you before the rewrite began? – Serena Lin

Collaborative Manifesto Project: here.

I was sleeping between words,
between syllables, a river in flux.

Our house sits next to a river
but only when the rain falls.

The cicadas come every summer
to build a deafening mythology,
only when the heat drizzles rain.
They tell my story with their song.

When I wake my
silence is breath.
It has become my
wall of sound.

We are always vibrating
in our bed, listening to the bugs cry
every night when the sun dies.

I was not born of your blood,
I tell you, but I am the space between the words.

When you get angry, you say,
“Breathe so you can speak.”
But I close my mouth.

I am running away from a story, a story
that my lola told me when I was young.

“When you fall in love,” she said,
“Build a river, build a wall of sound.”

I am always here, listening by the
river. By the porch. When the rain falls.
Silence conveys oxygen, I tell myself,
silence that smells like rage.

Do I not speak because I am not myself?

– Word credits to Serena, Monica Hand, Paul, Tamiko, Racruzzo, Bushra, Toddw.


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