Legacy of Ghosts and The Song of Crying Horses
new essay + new poem
Last week, a guy spit into my apartment lobby, hitting the security guard unapologetically while I was inside charging his phone after dancing at a club called Rico. He had begged for my number. When I texted him whatthefuck in the morning, he said it never happened. When I said it was on camera, he blocked me.
Before that, a different guy gave me his birth time and I gave him 2 weeks of texting and a massage. Then I ran into him at a bar, and after karaoke and mezcal, I got ghosted mid conversation. He evaporated. He may as well have run away. I think maybe he did.
These recent experiences with the spirit world reminded me of a legacy I try to forget (but really, I can’t be trying that hard, considering I planted a reminder in my pen name).
My grandma said my mom’s birth dad was too charismatic. He even had my great grandparents impressed and that worried her. So my grandma went to the lawyer for a divorce. And the lawyer said, no need; he’s already married in another state, wife and kids and all that. And my grandma (her name is Ella) approaches my charming grandfather, (his name is Alberto Correa, but this is Nebraska and he goes by Al Corea) to say, I imagine, whatthefuckfuckyou but she’s not going to shout like a fool (this is Nebraska) so she darts across a field (of fields)(this is Nebraska) gallops like a rabbit and can’t corner a thing when the whole world is a horizon and he’s a breath on the back of a train—reach, grip, his feet lift, for a second, he floats.
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I love how you married the two different prose ideas together. It was so beautiful!!!!!
Holymotherofpoetry that is a scathing beautiful justso intensity of a poem.