Carried away

When suddenly we cannot carry / Everything we need on / Our backs // And a thick dust collects on the bows and / Arrows that got / Shoved in a corner, never again graced with / Even a glance // Fridges full, / Minds numb, / Shelves bulging, / Bulging bodies in caskets // When we tap our feet to the rhythm of / Assembly line poultry and / Talk about the healing power of / Dawn's dew without ever building up the courage to greet the sun, and / Encase you, me, and everything / Else / In puny little boxes // We lose / Our ability to tell the / Time by the sun, to ask it to slow down or / Speed up for us, to allow us to hunt the / Wildest beasts. And // We end / Up / Squashing / The probability of real break- / Through to / Zero. -farita, nov 2022

I drank an ant

I drank an ant / With my coffee today, not / That I was expecting to, but I sort / Of just saw its lifeless / Exoskeleton / In there and was like, / Eh, / Fuck it. / Protein. // I wonder - // Did / It crawl all the way up the sides / Of the mason jar, including the treacherous / 45 degree slant - did / It buy a few more seconds / By walking along the edge where normally The tin screw top rests - did / It fall right when it braved the / Crossing of the lip, or did / It at some point realize it's / Fucked / And let go, stopping time in a pool / Of caffeine and condensed milk? // Only it / - And the mason jar - / Knew. -farita, apr 2022

Two birds staring into the abyss

The points / In time / When I find a hole / I’m usually unsure / Whether it is a pitfall that ends in / Death / Of my ideas and dreams and hopes / Or a window to / Discovery / of the proofs of my greatest insights. / So I’ll ask my friend, / And we’ll stare into the / Daunting / Abyss of uncertainty together, / Until one of us gains the courage to swoop. // And when one of us does swoop, / We find out that the hole / Was an illusion composed of / A dead frog on the street below our tree / And light. -farita, oct 2021