A RECENT LIST OF THINGS TO REMEMBER, AND THEN TO FORGET
TO CREATE A WILDFIRE FROM BRUSH AND PAINT
YOU MUST FIRST REMEMBER SOME INVOLUNTARY
LOVE THAT HAS BROUGHT YOU, AT ONE TIME, TO
YOUR KNEES. REFER TO THE BRUISES THAT ARE
STILL THERE AND BE SURE TO KISS YOUR CANVAS
FIRST. THERE IS NOTHING MORE ROMANTIC THAN
A BLANK CANVAS.
TO BLOOM AFTER RAIN, RECORD YOUR TEENAGE
PAST, THE CONSUMPTION, THE BROKEN GLASS.
PROVE THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE WRONG AND
DRINK UP WHILE YOU CAN.
THE TREMOR IN YOUR HANDS COMES ONLY
FROM AN ACHE OF WHAT YOU COULD NOT
HOLD. REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE LUCKY
AND RICH WITH THIS. EMPTINESS IS THE
DISTANT COUSIN OF BLISS.
CLEANSE YOUR LIVER EVERY NOW AND THEN,
THE ‘IMPURE’ IS ONLY EXCESS FETISH. LONELY
FLAWS KEPT IN CAPTIVITY, IN YOUR BODY. AS
YOU WAIT FOR THE WAR TO BE OVER, CALMLY
SIP ON GINGER TEA.
FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR ENEMY AT LEAST ONCE.
YOU MIGHT FEEL ALIEN IN YOUR FORMULATION
OF LUST AND TOUCH. STAY UNDERNEATH THE
SHEETS. YOUR ENEMY WILL LOVE YOU CLEAN, IN
A BIBLICAL KIND OF WAY, ANCIENT IN AGE. THIS
LOVE WILL BE A MIXTURE OF POWER AND WEAK
KNEES. A LIGHTNESS LIKE A FEATHER FALLING.
EXAGGERATE WHEN YOU SPEAK ONTO WHAT YOU
BELIEVE. KEEP AUTHENTIC TO THE MACHINE OF
YOUR BODY, CROWN EACH EXPERIMENTAL IDEA
ACCORDINGLY. AND AS FOR LOST MEMORIES,
BE SURE TO LEAVE THE LIGHTS ON IN CASE OF
RETURN. THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH PAST YOU
IN ONE SWEET DOWNWARD MOTION, DIP YOUR
TOES INTO THE OCEAN. BE THE COOL AND
COMPOSED ONE WHEN THEY ASK YOU,
“WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE FUTURE?”
KEEP YOUR SPINE FLAT BY SLEEPING ON
YOUR BACK. DRAIN THE BATH AND WATCH
YOUR DAMP SHADOW MAKE ITS WAY TO BED.
SLEEP IS THE WISEST FORM OF REST.
YOU MIGHT FEEL INTOXICATED BY NOTICING
EYES ON YOU. YOU MIGHT THINK WARMTH IS
AN ORANGE CLOUD IN THE LATE AFTERNOON.
WHEN YOU DREAM OF IT, IT DREAMS OF YOU.
REMEMBER, INTUITION IS JUST THE SOULS
REACTION TO TRUTH.
THERE IS ONLY ONE LOOPHOLE WHEN IT COMES
TO DEATH: HOLD YOUR BREATH. THE MIGHTIEST
RIVER MAY FLOW PAST THE LOCAL JUNKYARD OR
INTO YOUR OWN BACKYARD. WATER IS A STRANGER
THAT SWIMS HARD. JUMP INTO IT AND EXIST, THERE
IS NO GREATER INFINITY THAN THIS.
Ode To The Statue-You
You are everybody’s darling
and I freeze up to mimic you.
For me it’s either early or too
late. For you to love the way I
move, I would have to create a
space for you to sleep and to
wait for me. Most of the time I
am sorry for all of the ways I
want you to change, because
really I cannot get enough of
looking at you, the milk of your
skin, the indents your fingers
make when you hold yourself.
I could go for a glass of you
but I don’t even drink milk.
Really I don’t like it very much
at all. But I’d take a sip of the
way you stand so straight. How
can you pose the same way
each day? I’m tired now just
thinking of it. Remind me again
why I let you go but always
come back? I want to leave you
the way I found you. I want to
change everything about you.
zero to confuse you
foggy morning, bad November,
zero lands animistic as you.
0, the ugly ocean @
i built a home out of a fishing boat
to confuse you.
the sea salt on your eyelids
reminds you of
morning stands human
to confuse you.
the aquatic early evening, cosmic,
you had those vinyls robbing you,
your hours at
your neck, conflicted,
the winter water was
an early nightmare,
but made divine by you,
by deciphering ripe zeros @
0, the balancing drunk,
rinse/repeat each morning.
throw in some raspberries,
check the clock,
smoothie’s almost done.
you had that book collection
blushing on the shelf crushing bugs, unread,
0 in your head
the sea salt in your mouth,
a bruised-lip memory
to confuse you.
you conduct a chilly experiment
in your bed,
dependent at best by
bright thru different windows,
your god came pranking at your doorstep,
up thru the water @
mid morning, concave,
TO BE HUNGRY DOESN’T ALWAYS MEAN ALIVE
IT IS THOUGHT THAT AN AERIAL VIEW
OF THE HUMAN BODY
LOOKS LIKE A PINPOINT ON A MAP.
A PINPRICK WISH,
PASTORAL IN A SENSE,
THE CORTEX WRAPS LIKE IVY.
THE DESIGN STARTS WITH A QUICK SKETCH.
TWIN GUTS IN THE UPPER MIDWEST.
BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THAT EXTRA EAST?
THE MEDUSA INSIDE YOUR BODY?
I MIGHT MEET YOU BETWEEN
TELL YOU THAT MY DREAMS
CANNOT TOUCH YOURS.
THAT I CANNOT BEAR TO MAKE YOU
THE ONLY ECHO OF MY BLUE BLUE ART,
TO LET YOU PERISH IN THE BLUE BLUE CITY.
I’LL TRY AGAIN TO CREATE HAPPINESS
OUT OF AN EMPTY COUNTRY,
A WHOLE ABYSS
INTO AN INSTANT OF BLISS,
I’LL KEEP HUNGRY-
AND IF YOU SEE MY AERIAL HUNGER
ROAMING THROUGH AN EMPTY FIELD,
AS A DOT ON A MAP,
WILL YOU GO TO HOLD ITS HAND?
WILL YOU FEED IT?
IT WOULD BE A REAL VISION,
A THUMB TACK REFLECTION
OF MY NERVOUS HUNGER
WASHED OUT BY THE CLOUDS,
PASTEL IN THE BLOOM OF YOUR
Shedding skin, like
leaving the room, like
drying clay, like yesterday, like
dog hair on the couch.
If love is greater than hurting is greater than
nothing, then what am I in relation to you?
Growing skin, like
getting warm, like
finding shade, like yesterday, like
your lips on my mouth.
If the sunrise is to the sunset as light is to light,
then what does that mean for the night?
Natalie Stamatopoulos is a multidisciplinary artist based Elsewhere. She has lived in places like Saudi Arabia, Switzerland, France, and the US (she lives currently in the in-between). Natalie received her BFA from the American University of Paris.