alyssa bunce
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Mountain Poem
to be in a mountain
submerged in a cloud
a quiet feeling
branches give way to sky
lavender and indigo
(when she lets herself be seen
through the fingers of reaching
greenery spliced overhead)
a quilt stitched of plant matter
by wise grandmother hands
you are cradled in the bosom of earth
a crane stalks in a stream then takes flight
the unhurried black waterbirds roam
“GOD”
is spray painted on a metal barrel
sitting confused in the organic
layers of rock retreat into fog
wind combs the water
pushing the forlorn beer can
carrying the odours of waste
the mountains suck you in and you submit
the fog dissolves attachments
to past realities and selves
there is no other way
but in
poems / words
Little Sister
oh Little Sister
you will live through
each hello and goodbye
each ecstasy and dark night
everything that seems impassable
will come to pass
and you will sustain
each rebirth of self
all fleeting scenery
(standing in the present,
sensing the magnitude
of what you shall come to feel
know you will sustain)
change is your nature / nature is change
Little Sister befriend yourself
Little Sister soften your grasp
try and believe / that inside
you have all you need
(untitled)
good morning to this body
who carries me through honey and mud
good morning to the bodiless
who giggle silently
the sun has cracked its shell
and drops into the sky like a heavy yolk
new life, new eyes
to marvel at the toiling caterpillar
and grieve for the overflowing trashcans
the pure and the dirty
will write treaties evermore
I make note of
the bulls twitching tail
as she nestles her heavy skeleton
beneath canopies of fig and Capomo
passing the densest hours asleep
dreaming of Food and Procreation
Transformer of Energy
discomfort is pleasure and so is comfort
pain doesn’t exist, only poetry
Stop!
I urge the falling snow
Stop!
I beg the swelling tide
Stop!
I scream to the clock
I exclaim till I’m faint
then I sit down to rest
. . .
Silly sweet human creature
soften your nerves
its all justified
just as it is
Including You
your mistakes, selfishness
the beauty you can’t manage to see
go ahead
Cry in the shower
think of your mother
of your smallness
and how nobody will know how it feels
to be inside your brain
Laugh on a mountaintop
laugh at the poignancy and majesty
until you feel
that everything is precious
and nothing matters
a veil is lifted
it is both
the accumulation of a lifetime
and jarringly sudden
enough water has collected
at the lip of the dam
so a teardrop
slipping through the crack
between joy and sorrow
suffices to ignite eruption
Samsara
once i was nothing, now i am everything
once i was everything, now i am nothing
Swarm of Doves
The monkeys of reason
that clamber in my brain
were defenceless and dumb
when the doves of grace
descended
and swarmed my hips
Container
my body is all I need
until I don’t need it anymore
La Compostela
The rain erupts on the highway, I am homebound. Sitting on a polyester seat, on a bus with few others. The glass pane ajar, I feed my hand through and the rain feels like Life. The sky is soft and warm like a womb, in its pinkness it swallows me. The serpentine vines encroach the road. My hand rises and falls jewelled with water as the bus follows the twisting highway. The humidity, the release of the rain, the sway of my body submitted to the rattling vehicle consumes me into trance. The hues blur together before windowpane eyes, I see the sweet pink and deep emerald, I see the skin of my hand. Nothing arises that is unjustified, each trace of matter sings its note, and falls away at the right moment. My mind craves to preserve this softness, store it in a place I can return to, when clutter and confusion bubble back to the surface. Though I know this moment a delicate moth, and trying to possess it will kill it.
A thought asserts itself, telling me to stay on this bus forever - this timeless, thoughtless metal insect, a space where I can retreat into observation, have nothing asked of me beyond watching colours blur, and acknowledging my senses.
Shortly my stop is called, and I disembark into the evening.
Spacegirl
Spacegirl is a feminist, inclusive, DIY poetry & illustration collection created by Alyssa, compiled in three booklets throughout 2018-2020
Mixed Media & Metaphysical Comics
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My Sweet Kitten
She is a twitchy pussycat with glassy eyes. Her hormones churn and she rubs up against the bed. An index finger and thumb seize the base of her neck, lifting her. The man scratches her for a while, then pitches her; surprised by the swift fang sinking into his skin. She pierces his flesh, leaving a fissure oozing thick maroon blood. Landing in her feline nature, she walks off to the sill, and licks herself clean. He watches the beautiful creature in hatred; spiteful at her mercilessness, at her deliverance of pride just to reclaim it for herself. He is envious of her nerve to erupt and strike, just seconds after she was making him feel so good. He spits in her direction. He feels the sudden rush of blood between his thighs; stiffening, growing firm. The cat approaches him, sits between his feet. He lowers to let her lick the wound; they’re used to this routine. His mind is flushed with contradictory, deafening emotion. He struggles to find logic among his thoughts. The cat runs off to the window sill, bored and slightly bothered by his company. Laying in luxury, she dreams of mice and milk. A bird flies into the window pane above the cat, falling dead on impact. The man takes this as his sign that it is time to leave. He twists the brass knob and feels the rush of autumn wind. Taking forced mechanical steps to the edge of the property; upon impulse, he looks back hungrily. The cat has followed his trail out the door, but takes a sharp left to examine the bird that dropped in the yard. He watches with a flushed face as the cat plunges two needle fangs into the neck of the bird. He does not look away— cannot. It is the epitome of his pleasure. When she looks to him with her glass marble eyes he cannot stand it; saturated with libido and disgust and longing. She carries the bird to him, dropping its pathetic carcass at his feet. He marvels at her alluring capacity for destruction… He is pierced by overwhelming hatred and burning desire. Perplexed by the nature of his labyrinthian brain and at the strange circumstances of life. He wills his feet to walk, and he turns to leave. Another day lived in self-restraint.