Poetry Is One Of The Few Things I Dependably Do
there’s little ease
in a life of library lunches,
wall-sitting,
everything full volume
ear-lancing cacophony,
but there is infinite literary possibility
in experiencing this vividly,
dedicating ourselves so thoroughly, silently
people-watching,
microscopic magnified, personified
everything. I don’t know
how to pen Hallmark poems,
I don’t gaze into eyes
enough to describe them,
but I notice
the places skin pulls taut, slacks wrinkle;
I see someone playing
with a tag hanging at their waist
or a smile on their face,
trying to place the emotion behind it;
I commit bitten stout nails
and clavicle constellations
to memory. we are not just writing
poetry, but living it embodied
for any who care to hear echolalia
humming like a fridge, echolalia
collaborations flickering lens echolalia
the truest communication echolalia
of motion, of routine, of ideas, of being seen.
even overload,
the fire blanket, the airbag,
is like my poems:
saying what I cannot,
what I may not even understand,
pure adrenaline tearing
then settling
into rare silence,
pleasant emptiness.
do not let their limited creativity
paint ours as anything, but
inextricable,
boundless.
Maxwell O’Toole compulsively creates. An emerging disabled and trans writer, he is particularly inspired by his activist work, using art to connect with himself, others, and our world. He has pieces published/forthcoming with UNESCO Chair, Chartium, The Muse Zine, Freefall Magazine, Vellichor Literary, and Poets.ca. Maxwell lives with his partner and their cats in St. Catharines, Ontario, traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples. For more information, visit @maxwellwriteswell on Instagram or sites.google.com/view/maxwellwriteswell.
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