Space Zine

Tweets come together to create a tweet poem. Different friends across the tweet-sphere came together to create three poems. Contributors for all poems include: Linnry, megsortabrown, iamthewilrus, dirtbikephd, lpaige90, regisl, willinspace, valerie2776, craigcrowder, notveryraven, petfurinture, kleptomik, emililililily, iamhypatia, & trilety. Follow them. Love them. Troll them. Here is poem C.

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I’ll never forget family movie weekends. My parents always moved a mattress to the living room floor. I’ve never slept so soundly.
On time I punched my older brother in the nuts. He yelled that’s not funny and beat me up.
I’ll never forget the time you told me if I was any shorter I’d be as fat as a Butterball Turkey. I was hiding behind the recliner.
Family is the feeling of being happily full with others near you.

Tweets come together to create a tweet poem. Different friends across the tweet-sphere came together to create three poems. Contributors for all poems include: Linnry, megsortabrown, iamthewilrus, dirtbikephd, lpaige90, regisl, willinspace, valerie2776, craigcrowder, notveryraven, petfurinture, kleptomik, emililililily, iamhypatia, & trilety. Follow them. Love them. Troll them. Here is poem B.

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I remember a felt pumpkin flag made in school on exposed brick
—art on craft—and a thick foam of potentiality over everything,
-place, -one,
Where the currents of people swept me along
Lying under a pickup truck, weaving clover bracelet,
Hot and heavy an a little [lot] lonely, summer in rural Mississippi
My favorite thing about August is watching my Mamaw and her twin
Trade birthday gifts giddy like they’re six years old again
Grandmother paper hands.
Paper cheeks. They were stooped bent paper dolls
Laughing 2 by 2 next to the casserole. Give me a biscuit give me
North Carolina. First snow of the season, first memory of my life.
Mamaw puts bread bags over our sneakers before we walk to the store
Indulgence: She buys me a 35 cent comic book, kindling a wordy,
4-olor flame that burned hot all through that winter
And rages on to this day.

Tweets come together to create a tweet poem. Different friends across the tweet-sphere came together to create three poems. Contributors for all poems include: Linnry, megsortabrown, iamthewilrus, dirtbikephd, lpaige90, regisl, willinspace, valerie2776, craigcrowder, notveryraven, petfurinture, kleptomik, emililililily, iamhypatia, & trilety. Follow them. Love them. Troll them. Here is poem A.

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I dyed my hair pink
my mom went to therapy
didn’t you know that every time you tell a story
you’re raising something from the dead
Southern Baptists fill us with food after the funeral, “Well,
we won’t be seeing Nanny again,” grandpa said,
matter-of-factly
sucked incense and thumbed the pew.
Waited to kneel behind cut black lace confessions
1st feel of knees 1st blind candlelight
out by exhalation
steady slow spreading dizzy in and pop
and wrong and wrong and wrong
at 7, i took Christ in the cup of my hands.
At 10, i took Christ on the tip of my tongue.
At 13, i left the church. swallowing want as wood.
After the bike ride my dad awkwardly asked if I was afraid of him.
on family car trips, dad would get frustrated at us arguing children and stop
in the middle of the road and risk our lives
mom threw dad out of the car and made him walk home, watched him out the back of the window getting smaller as we drove. Hoped he wasn’t mad at me.
It’s really terrifying how hard it is to separate people from their roles.