Persephone, My Life, UndergroundIt was no mistake that I ate the fruit.Persephone, My Life, Underground by TheGlassIris
It was sweet. I was young. I knew
where my loyalties lied. With me,
the earth could finally uphold
and swallow that precarious promise,
grow and grow. What does not wither
will not flourish. I was young
strutting about in a spring dress.
Mother told me to beware
what laid beyond the field.
This was the beginning
of all my faithlessness.
But if I loved anything
it was the chance to be free of innocence.
In the dark I grew like flowers
grow in the dark of the locked tomb,
doors that will never be opened
save for some thief, saved
from the light of a respectable heaven.
I was not naive. Ignorant, yes.
But I knew what I once wanted.
What I still want, first once, then more.
Love and a chance at life,
a freedom none are afforded.
Among the dead who walk the endless fields,
I came to be one among their number,
brighter, graced by holiest of ashes,
jewels of sorrow and beads of distress
adorned, piled high with the love
of a dark and drear-ruled kingdom
IzanagiWhat terrified me was not the bare boneIzanagi by TheGlassIris
under dim candles floating over black water.
What I saw was of no importance
but for what it meant. That you
were gone, and in your place some
thing appeared and named its dark form
“wife.” I had to run, you see. There was
a darkness I could not escape, that was
already inescapable the moment I laid eyes
on you, who I loved, on you,
who shall not be here hence and more.
I named my sons and daughter after you,
those tears swept fast and unceremonious
from my eyes, who now go and warp the world,
storm, and sun, and moon. Then at noon, none
shall know our troubles, our separation,
our splitting grief. Out of my one grief,
you were born. Out of our trembling union,
the land was split and made whole,
the earth was filled with both bloom and night,
and the sky, just born, soon came to be filled
with endless reams of snow.
The Apples of LossThese are the fruitThe Apples of Loss by TheGlassIris
that can be eaten straight
to the core, no working
your way around, licking corners
or biting at the stone, for the fruit is
the core, the core
all the fruit. Bite
with the whole of the jaw,
firm vise of incisors, cut loop
of the molars' millet maunching
movement, the whole of the fruit
is all there is, the whole
of the jaw is all you have
to break through the cold
and leaden skin, yet
so brittle, yet so delicate
a single touch can leave it bruised,
flowering upon your teeth, hurt,
the lips split
This, he understood,
after the garden melted into the past,
and the first chill of autumn broke
to the jealousy of a dead summer,
its mirage of heat, the apple's tart
and fired waver still glowing
like a branded mark on the tongue.
She kissed him, once over each eye,
as if to bid goodnight or say farewell.
Walking into the dark, alone with each other,
the first flowers in the land of the dead
came alive at their feet, ravaged by stone,
torn by the wind,
DeerYou came back in the fallDeer by gummyrabbit
and I told you you could go —
already almost gone
like the deer I came upon one day,
slow breathing beside me
before it leaped. You stayed
and stayed and now the air
is crisp with lack of you.
Astronauti.238,900 miles away
the Earth gleams in the darkness.
A cat's eye, opalescent blue
flecked with terra verdant,
fifty-two cream colors
Under a heavy lid of night,
it glares. Angry.
As if to say to the Sun:
I was dreaming
of all the fish
in my seas.
As if to ask why
it had to be woken.
Thoughts are protozoan here;
with glass-thin skin
transparent as the first lie
he ever told as a child.
I didn't steal that candy bar.
He can see the mechanics,
They divide like dreams,
Whole and unbroken
as they tear apart. If
he could stretch far enough,
he could pop his home planet
like soap bubble.
he's too small
to make much
of a difference.
238,900 miles away,
there is a small click.
A tiny latch
as his 14-year-old daughter
slides her seatbelt
She's learning how to drive,
and how to feel a new kind of terror.
of collision. Of bone
or brick breaking,
Lightyears at SeaHis whispered goodbyes caught fire
in the whites of her eyes as wild dogs
and empty oceans devoured him.
Standing still for years, she with
a waiting heart and waiting fingers
gave birth to ghosts with feathers.
Haunting in his sleep, swinging like
sharp jewelry and pendulums
carving cryptic messages upon his floor-
'You, with your tattooed baptism skin
and slithering tongue of sweet poison
left her aching ashes to mix with gunpowder.'
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Andrew Liu, 20, student at East Los Angeles College, loves to write. That's me in the picture, staring at the Lansdowne Herakles in the Getty Villa. I've been writing since 2007 and I started poetry in 2011. My favorite genres are urban fantasy (Harry Potter, Percy and the Olympians) and fantasy (Cry of the Icemark, American Gods, Good Omens). I mostly write poetry. I switched over from prose because I could never manage to finish writing short stories. I write as a hobby but hope to make a career out of teaching and writing. |
I'm an English major. My favorite period is American Modernism. I've read T.S. Eliot, E.E. Cummings, Robert Frost, Wallace Stevens. My all-time favorite pieces of poetry are varied: Cathy Song "Cloud Moving Hands", Sharon Olds "The Elder Sister" & "I Go Back to May, 1937", Sylvia Plath "Mirror" & "Fever 103", Mark Doty "Tiara", Elizabeth Bishop "The Fish", and Muriel Rukeyser "Song for Dead Children."
If I were to summarize my writing style in three words it would be: lush, dream-like, and intense. People have always told me that I'm very good at imagery and description, but not so much at editing or making sure my work flows effortlessly.
Other hobbies I have include video games, anime, and more reading I guess. All time favorite video games: Folklore (PS3), Bastion (PC), Dust: An Elysian Tale (PC), Persona 4 (PS2). All time favorite animes: Natsume Yuujinchou (Natsume's Book of Friends), Puella Magi Madoka Magica (Magical Girl Madoka), Nodame Cantabile, Ao no Exorcist (Blue Exorcist-manga only), and Magi (again, manga only). All time favorite books: Caramelo (Sandra Cisneros), American Gods (Neil Gaiman), The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald), Asterios Polyp (David Mazzuchelli), Like Water For Chocolate (Laura Esquivel), and Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury).