Tag Archives: Stella Gleitsman

Stella Gleitsman

Whole Again

And violence becomes an addiction

when you do not love it enough

when you do not lean into it

you have to eat enough of it

like a star

like a gourd

like a vision

lit by echo

you must get used to how it spins

in your mouth

like a hunting rock

like something

that breeds flowers

gecko son

perused topaz diagon

blankness

yeah

it wreaks so much havoc on the body

and the soul,

it designs so much mythology

on your shoulders

tears into the bone life

loots its good structure

leaving everything so

dead

beetled jewelry bugs

brittle branch love

and poetry comes easy to me now

to the whole of my

self

borne out the skin

almost

breathed

out

so

easy

blushing

seeping

out the papery clouds

and beauty is in

so so so much to me

mostly in nature

in the bodies it has melded

three stones

grifting together

crafting organs

out of fertile

entranced

dough

and always, always in sound

the half-weeping

smoke of it

billowed

and

protected by pixies

slinking into

love odes

collapsing onto me like a

bleeding pen

shifting me slowly

out my mind

so I become a type of insane

that roots me

lizard

it stirs inside,

something patterned

something seamless

as if I’m something more

than I thought I was

and today it is here:

in

this breath

this breath

this breath

.

and what I want most now is:

to become

whole again,

whole again,

whole again,


Stella Gleitsman (she/he/they) is a poet and artist based in Brooklyn currently attending SUNY Purchase. Their poetry is focused on the visceral texture of language and explores alienation in body, mind, and life through newfound poetic architecture. Their work also explores the radical feminist transmasculine perspective as a potent poetic politics. They hope to delve into sound poetry, poetic painting and sculpture, and printed matter.

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Stella Gleitsman

Bread Blue Planet

I’m a bread blue planet.

Among a crazy shuffle of blue.

I’m like

too intense

for the malt of the run.

For the sake of the gun.

I was a child that ate leaves.

Now I’m an adult among a wintry hail.

A wintry wait heaven.

When you touched me

you thought you had a firm grip

on a girl body.

When you touched me

I felt like sky.

Like cry.

When you touched me.

I didn’t even whimper a bit.

Didn’t even feel it really.

Every time I’m touched I feel like heaven.

I feel like grip.

Everything moves within me and I become responsive.

And I become a bold sparkle.

Yes I become responsive.

I wish I had a way to talk

But please know I’ll just respond.

There is a baby in me.

That’s not my daughter:

But it’s my spoke.

That rinses at the world.

That craves the world.

That bleeds the world.

Boasts the world.

It’s an animal

and it’s a blunt

hand.

I wish I knew how

to greet you

in a way that can

make you understand.

Understand.

My body split in two.

Reclined in a malware.

Cold rhythm. Scope.

I’d love to be blue. 🔵

The whole color. The whole

world. God!

I’d love to be the whole world.

Watery + blue + baltic.

But you touch me.

I’m just a touch.


Stella Gleitsman (she/he/they) is a poet and artist based in Brooklyn currently attending SUNY Purchase. Their poetry is focused on the visceral texture of language and explores alienation in body, mind, and life through newfound poetic architecture. Their work also explores the radical feminist transmasculine perspective as a potent poetic politics. They hope to delve into sound poetry, poetic painting and sculpture, and printed matter.

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Filed under Poetry