i wear
waxen wings, too.

like you,
i was
the sun-chaser.

we blot the sky
like inky crows.

the wind forebodes:
“not all that shines
is gold.”

dear Icarus —

How do you live
in a broken world?
Do you step over the shards on the sidewalk
and pretend not to hear
the crunch of glass
beneath your feet?


softened are the sharp and bitter stones that
cut like glass as people
walked upon me —

a shifting of sands.

sink into me like a riverbed and
i will lull…

  • Pull all volumes of past work onto your desk. Let them remind you of how far you’ve come, and how much more there is left to do.
  • Bathe in sunlight
  • Get drunk enough to start fantasizing, but not so drunk you can’t hold your pen
  • Remind yourself that one day…

i harbored thoughts of you
for months.
they surfaced gently, golden apples bobbing in the lukewarm waters of my
lucid dreams

when i kiss you i taste the thawing of

most days,
i pretend
i’m on a beach in spain,
drinking wine until my skin feels
so dry you could
light a fire on it.

sometimes i cry
sometimes i step out on my balcony and yell at the orange tree for being
so beautiful, so unaware

i write long…

over time, my hands grew heavy
tending to the roots of trees
that bore no seed,
no leaves, no fruit.

so i turned into the desert,
scorching and unscalable,
stretched thin like…

Cecilia Seiter

I write poems. Sometimes longer stories. I wrote a book, you can read that, too. https://tinyurl.com/man-made-hunter

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