A poet eats poetically. She eats pages of poems. She chews pages of poems. She burps poetically. Before she becomes a hardcore poet, she must purge her wastes and forget everything but poetry. Her body is scarred with words and signs and texts. She cannot buy poems in a convenience store so she cooks poems and have them for dinner. Sometimes, she eats them at breakfast. She is a hungry, fat poet. And poetry is poisoning her until she romantically vomits poems on the dining table.
I’m a wannabe blogger who loves the 90s and Dr. Martens, an annoying mother and a jealous fan of A.M. Homes.