Item
Things Are Happening in Fours
Title (Dublin Core)
Things Are Happening in Fours
Description (Dublin Core)
Poems relating to COVID
Date (Dublin Core)
Creator (Dublin Core)
Contributor (Dublin Core)
Type (Dublin Core)
Poem
Controlled Vocabulary (Dublin Core)
English
Social Distance
English
Emotion
Date Submitted (Dublin Core)
04/01/2020
Date Modified (Dublin Core)
10/09/2020
10/06/2021
Date Created (Dublin Core)
04/01/2020
Text (Omeka Classic)
“Things Are Happening in Fours”
A collection of 3 poems on COVID-19 musings from behind the research desk.
1.
Have you seen,
Have you heard, have you felt,
Have you noticed?
Things are happening in fours.
Four outbreaks,
Four internets,
Four possible futures,
Four horsemen.
As the drum of voices echo through
the hallways of this household,
the four walls close in.
Cannot break the four rules:
medical care, food and supplies,
exercise, work and education.
For fear of over $4000.
Is anything necessary?
Do I remember?
Pay attention.
Remind me of your four freedoms.
What are your four pathways?
Tell me four options.
Give me four armours, a sword and
a good book.
God help us all.
2.
The sunlight of what feels like the last day of sunshine sears the skin of my leg through the black of the denim as we sink deeper into Autumn.
I can see the lines in the wrinkles of my skin as I stretch out my palms, fingertips cowling backwards.
I look up and blink my eyes, seeing the blue of the sky for the first time this morning.
If I pause, I can breathe in forever. The oxygen fills every cell of my lungs, until my diaphragm impresses against my cracking ribs.
Prison is beautiful.
Maybe we can stay here forever.
Maybe they’ll visit us. Who knows?
Look at precedence.
Precedence tells me they’ll come again. That there will be movement.
Markers. Tracking.
A beautiful exchange.
A trade-off.
A covenant, marked with blood. Mine.
3.
Hello tiny square.
Important box.
Silver square.
Good morning.
How are you today, Iris?
I’ve missed you.
What will we do today?
What is the weather?
What is the world?
What should I think?
Here are my thoughts.
Tap my consciousness.
Know my soul.
I am node.
I am data point.
In your spinning web.
Spin me. It feels nice.
I forgot life before.
I forgot how to learn.
I don’t read.
I no longer think.
Where is my square?!
Do not touch it.
You cannot.
She knows my face. My touch.
My fingerprint.
She knows me.
You do not.
I do not need you.
I do not know you.
I forgot you.
I forgot myself.
A collection of 3 poems on COVID-19 musings from behind the research desk.
1.
Have you seen,
Have you heard, have you felt,
Have you noticed?
Things are happening in fours.
Four outbreaks,
Four internets,
Four possible futures,
Four horsemen.
As the drum of voices echo through
the hallways of this household,
the four walls close in.
Cannot break the four rules:
medical care, food and supplies,
exercise, work and education.
For fear of over $4000.
Is anything necessary?
Do I remember?
Pay attention.
Remind me of your four freedoms.
What are your four pathways?
Tell me four options.
Give me four armours, a sword and
a good book.
God help us all.
2.
The sunlight of what feels like the last day of sunshine sears the skin of my leg through the black of the denim as we sink deeper into Autumn.
I can see the lines in the wrinkles of my skin as I stretch out my palms, fingertips cowling backwards.
I look up and blink my eyes, seeing the blue of the sky for the first time this morning.
If I pause, I can breathe in forever. The oxygen fills every cell of my lungs, until my diaphragm impresses against my cracking ribs.
Prison is beautiful.
Maybe we can stay here forever.
Maybe they’ll visit us. Who knows?
Look at precedence.
Precedence tells me they’ll come again. That there will be movement.
Markers. Tracking.
A beautiful exchange.
A trade-off.
A covenant, marked with blood. Mine.
3.
Hello tiny square.
Important box.
Silver square.
Good morning.
How are you today, Iris?
I’ve missed you.
What will we do today?
What is the weather?
What is the world?
What should I think?
Here are my thoughts.
Tap my consciousness.
Know my soul.
I am node.
I am data point.
In your spinning web.
Spin me. It feels nice.
I forgot life before.
I forgot how to learn.
I don’t read.
I no longer think.
Where is my square?!
Do not touch it.
You cannot.
She knows my face. My touch.
My fingerprint.
She knows me.
You do not.
I do not need you.
I do not know you.
I forgot you.
I forgot myself.
Accrual Method (Dublin Core)
1208