I'm not making a habit of posting prose poetry on my birthday (two years in a row does not make a tradition, probably), but it is my birthday, and I love this poem so, so much.
I wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside. I ride the train, walk among the buildings, men in Monday suits. The flight of doves, the city of tents beneath the underpass, the huddled mass, old women hawking roses, & children all of them, break my heart. There's a dream I have in which I love the world. I run from end to end like fingers through her hair. There are no borders, only wind. Like you, I was born. Like you, I was raised in the institution of dreaming. Hand on my heart. Hand on my stupid heart.
—Cameron Awkward-Rich, "Meditations in an Emergency" from Dispatch, 2019. Shoutout to my guy Frank O'Hara.
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