November
2020

336 Hours Indoors

Part of Pandemic: A Collection
by L Gengler

When I am getting to the end of a large bag of popcorn sometimes I pour the fractioned kernels into a bowl and eat them with a spoon.

***
The first days three were a time of mourning. It was three identical birds, perched on three identical mailboxes on a Sunday morning.
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***
It is hard to be alone when it feels like individualism is an antagonist. 
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***
If I was intuition, where I would be hiding. 
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A Time of Great Loss.
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I have taken up reading Tarot Cards. 
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When the tower falls, in its wake smolders an opportunity to build again. 
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***
Mantra for a maiden voyage. 
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***
I’m not scared of Bloomer. Though it is haunted and I still know everyone who works at the gas station. The fear is of settling, getting stuck, being stagnant, staying still. 
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A sticky, sickly web whose life depends on the flies trapped to it. We all have to eat.
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***
I am having a funeral for me.
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You are invited to the horror of the tenants whose apartments border mine.
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I have taken up singing.
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***
I have realized that the selves that live in different circles look like distant relatives. 
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I suppose I will have to do something about that.
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We have some space between 
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the realization and
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the implementation 
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We have a lot more time for looking.
‍f

L Gengler  is an interdisciplinary artist and writer who has found herself in Chicago by way of New York by way of Minneapolis from Bloomer, Wisconsin. She is a Patti Smith enthusiast and avid collager.

Illustration by Raven Mo