Tropico Line, Portuguese Projects, Wordle

Making peace with myself and allowing change to bathe me

Hey! I’ve been writing a lot of things in Portuguese lately. My friend

Lavínia Vianini

and I are writing a book together and that’s all we can say for now.

Things are changing. I’m changing.

I’m thinking of not using a pseudonym anymore, since I haven’t wore foundation on my skin or dyed my hair in years. I don’t like my name very much, but it is what it is.

Oh! There’s

Tropico Line Literary

, our online (soon to-be print) magazine. We are very happy with the submissions popping up. If you have something you’d like to share, send it to us!

Alright, about the Wordle project. I’ve decided to write a poem to every 2022 wordle I found inspiring.

The month of January:

Jan 10 - #205 - QUERY

I put myself through this query:
that the word comes first 
and the word will speak. 
In the morning, sounds of horns 
and songs of birds,
synchronised like an experimental 
sound computers make on their own.
Apart from all there was me in another query with
words to write the lyrics to that cacophony. 

And on top of it, I turned a very loud fan on. 

---

Jan 11 - #206 - DRINK

Some 
days 
form 
little
sips

Some weeks are a gulp

Some months give 
y
o
u
the hic
cups 

Some years 
										evaporate 
when you drink the 
Wine

you were supposed to use in the Madeira Sauce
for a lonely Christmas
Flesh of 
Jesus Bloody 
Mary

---


Jan 12 - #207 - FAVOR

All the scenery, 
all the glance that allow me to be
the protagonist 

All the furniture,
the pen, the paper unruled sheet
because I chose it to not be.

The glass of water, the 
coaster which motif’s a Chinese traditional painting,
the little vintage boxes with little clips and dismissed
post-its;

the ink in the pen, the lines I chose not,
the florid travel journal, the writing desk and no
quilt.

No enigma. All being alright with allowing me
to be on my own, now. Line
everyone else and the stuff of their scenery:

starring role to my own
minuteness.

---


Jan 15 - #210 - PANIC

There are eyes on me
mine have noticed them
and they’re on

There are mouths like mine that shut
before mine some kiss mine all bad then

There are legs like mine, that run
more than mine a skin like mine
that can withstand heat without burning 

_I just wish I could photosynthesis awareness_

There are breasts that are two not like mine
better than mine firmer than mine and I
don’t even know who or why it’s 
on the billboard it’s on the advertisement 
online

---

Jan 16 - #211 - SOLAR

The awakening is but the to 
kill 

the bed and the memory
the queen of the night
the telescope hopes to 

move to somewhere else with many moons
to inspire the memory on
the skin
the queen not die to save the king

a view of the life we had

---

Jan 19 - #214 - POINT

When I start to talk, I hardly ever have a structure:
my sense of architecture is rather basic. 

But once the axis is found, there’s a line being traced both ways,
there are commas falling the in the right places and
even the rhythm being
imperfect and amateur,

the point will be made. 

---

Jan 29 - #224 - COULD

I could write a poem on every day in January
but January is a essay. 
We essay on how to make our resolutions work or
how to 
dodge
our minds from our failure if they ultimately don’t. 

I _could_ write a poem on every day in February. 


---

Jan 31 - #226 - LIGHT

I don’t know what came first,
the light or the eyes or whether the light made 
the eyes or the eyes created the light. 

The irony is the light can blind the eyes and gravity forces us
to stick our chins to our chest, look down on the floor not to trip, and wonder

if there was a couple of eyes who created the light that went through
the prisma and made colours
just for kicks. 

Or if the light was a force of nature like the pre-
Titans and made the eyes her daughters
that won’t look up to her.

---

I plan on finishing this by the 31st. I’ll probably share it as an ebook here.

I hope you’re having a nice December.

Love,

L