The Poetry Project


Jodi Lin

The dead have no boundaries.

Ghosts simply exist.

The living
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxand rot.

Ghosts simply exist.

To name them:

The sitting ghost
The hugging ghost
The ghost that hovered just behind my eyes.

The most frightful ghost––
perhaps the most loving;

the ghost that pushed,
like air,
though my body

The holes
where the needles left me,
the holes
excrete cold air,
not blood.

Suspended now,
just above the blankets,
just above the bed.

No blood.

A new utopia.

A world where the realms of the living
the dying
the dead
exist together.

Space and time
a new utopia,
a new continuum.

Breathing is overrated.

Bodies are basic.

Decay is optional.

Work from Boo: Ghosts and the Unconscious for Utopian Dreaming with Claire Donato & Adrian Shirk