Imperfect

“I weep over my imperfect pages, but if future generations read them, they will be more touched by my weeping than by any perfection I might have achieved, since perfection would have kept me from weeping and, therefore, from writing.”

—Fernando Pessoa (1888–1935), translated by Richard Zenith, 2015

Fantastic shores

in bed at night his mind had a ferocious imagination
reality and unreality haunted his turbulent brain
the years ticked, an infinite clock of destiny

searching moonlight for the promise of a future
his reveries of heart were coasting on a fairy’s wing
as the world and universe drifted by fantastic shores

but the sea, work, and women — physical outlets —
were his anchor — something old, hard, and soft

Terri Guillemets

scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925

Fight for our lives

like wild animals, I am happy hiding
the artificial frightens my being —
but it is time to fight for the earth

Terri Guillemets

scrambled blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005

Midlife midriff

Eating a lot of garbage and dessert-obsessive
for several months, I put on a few pounds
      — and more.

Waddling is hell, and fat is a problem for the heart
      — I’m hungry & in pain.

Waist weight is a cruel joke, and age is no help.

Terri Guillemets

scrambled blackout poetry created from David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day, 2000