Category: Poetry

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Yesterday I Had a Dream

Yesterday I Had A Dream

(Exquisite Corpse written by entire class under supervision of Prof. Lina Meruane, later edited, ever so slightly, by classmates Alexis Plath Yribarren & Mila Maksimovic)

 

Yesterday I Had A Dream.

 

Reality became as blurry as clouds on a Sunday.

There, we consider if it’s ugly or not and decide on no.

Who is it?

Wow! A plethora of shoes!

 

My personality is like cheese – Sharp. Salty.

Pythagorean theorem.

A vibrant display of colors.

Waves crashed against the fore and then again fell silent.

 

Yesterday I had a dream.

Falling snowflakes on a wintry day.

Nothing is ever the same.

 

And then there were none.

My contact lenses are melting in my eyes; and piercing a tattoo on the membrane;

Oh, I’m going blind.

Time is short and precious.

 

Poetry may be.

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that is not the right word for what you are trying to say  by  Coco Fitterman

 

the body God gave me is too small

I was on Twitter DM last night

talking to C

who said he felt amazing

Lately

I feel ok

I only prayed to God once

asked Him to make me taller

to go to the party

to go to the cool party

from my bedroom it is

12:20 in new york on a friday

and you know the rest

mothers of America   

i see you molding clay

because clay is a

universal

female

medium

A concomitance

working with the hands

welcome to the pull

welcome to the pool

welcome to the thing

that never fucking dies

once T drank ten beers

after track practice

then he raped A

T is a texture

A is centering

A is still centering

A is aligned

in perfect arabesque

there was something else

i was going to say

but then I turned 20

in public I put on

my art world for you

for all of you

when I was 19

i am still 19

            in my heart

            in my soul

you are my best friend

i am only as strong as my weakest

            pill

            poem

            promise

i am hurt

in the way

a ballerina

gets hurt

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and indeed she ‘falls’ and indeed they cannot ‘bear’ it

 

                                                                        Coco Fitterman

 

 

there are things

you can’t buy online

but when you dream

you can find them

in other people

sometimes

i dream about a castle

six white horses

what was that poem

about horses in the ocean

something about AIDS

 

i hate AIDS

i miss my gay uncle

eastern european grandeur

  1. petersburg’s version

of The Cock on a friday

i forgot what this party is called

i left my phone

in a place

where older dykes cruise

i shook Eileen’s hand

i don’t care about anything

 

i can’t afford

the new iPhone

i have to look at your pics

on a smaller screen

tears smudge my cursive

reading Lorca

in the Hamptons

at my married friend’s lake house

basking in

the softness of day

that comes with wealth

the friend who used

to let me fuck her in college

on top like a boy

domesticity suits her

what’s that ashbery line

about truth

it passes on, whether you leave it

       in   or    out,       out

or      in

there are things

you can’t get from a poem

even if it is very beautiful

i’m not so jaded

i truly feel moved

there is a well

in chelsea market

sometimes

    when I’m seeing shows

i visit it

  look into its dark waters

yesterday I saw some paintings

        i felt    nothing

maybe paintings should

paint themselves one    half – – word    at a time

 

when the camera pans

      a painting of water

      a fluidity of motion

 

you sent me a screenshot

of your see-saw map

           should’ve been a dick pic

 

 

 

Art

 

that           concussed champion

 

 

sounds   like a guy