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rage fragment

what an urge, wanting things, to stay alive

By Joe NastaPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 1 min read

The birds bother me because I can’t see

them, their small noises. A joke on twitter

is going around that when we hear their

singing, say beautiful, those birds are only


trying to fuck. What an urge, wanting things,

to stay alive, to keep being alive, to make

something out of ourselves: the birds smaller

versions of birds and us, well, just


a whole version. Fuck those birds and their chirp-

ing will to live. They bother me because I can’t see

them but I can’t tune them out. The longer

I sit here the louder the


louder the birds get the loud-

er the birds get sitting sitting still.

And I’m so angry again at nothing.

And it’s not the birds I’m mad at.


You know, you know, you know.

I want to make something out of ourself.

I want to make something out of nothing,

piece ourself together broken egg


shell. Where’s the snake? Eat

the yolk. If we find those birds their nest

you’ll eat the yolk. Crack each egg

smaller versions of birds smaller versions


of birds. What an urge, destruction.

Where does any urge come from?

Living, creating, being alone, sitting,

hillsides, the water. Where do the birds


come from? Breaking breaking shells eat-

ing birds piec ing together wondering

where did the bird go where did the bird

go and when did they stop making their sounds?


It is good to not see them, then. I’ll just

keep sitting and being bothered. Listening.

Being present. Oh, in the tree there, the sun hit

them. A blue one looks me in the eye to ask


Isn’t it a beautiful day? and Wanna fuck, wan-

na fuck, wanna fuck? I stare at the point of his beak

and answer, No, blue bird. No, I don’t but thank you

for seeing me. And yes, what a beautiful day.

This poem was included in my book "I want you to feel ugly, too," which can be read on issuu.

Read part 1 of this poem

Read part 3 of this poem

performance poetry

About the Creator

Joe Nasta

Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P

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