Music: dream/scrapbook

Hello there! I’m so excited to share this collaboration with you – a poem I wrote last year was turned into a song by my dear friend Jay Richardson. Jay is a wonderful composer and organist who lends every drop of his enthusiasm to every one of his projects. I’m honoured that he chose some of my work as inspiration for his own, and so delighted with how it turned out – check it out!

 

Please head over to Jay’s website to have a listen to some of his other work.

 

Copyright © Technicolour Typewriter (Lucie Vovk) 2014-present. All rights reserved

dream/scrapbook

these two hands and
your full lips like
envelopes like
paper cranes and

the snow or grass and
the shelled-out school bus
and the blueberries pressed
between grinning fingers or

spell for the sea

i sit by the sea and call it forth
it sends me waves and waves again
i ask for more and so they come
and sweep me out away with them

 

Copyright © Technicolour Typewriter (Lucie Vovk) 2014-present. All rights reserved.

the one thousand and first (after Richard Siken)

 

Copyright © Technicolour Typewriter (Lucie Vovk) 2014-present. All rights reserved.

Film: The messes we made are my favourite works of art (Iceland 2018)

I’m filled with no small degree of joy to share this video today! This is a collaboration with one of my best friends Luke. This might sound familiar to some of you, as well it should, as he used my poem OG9A8757.jpg as the text for this video, which he made of a trip we took to Iceland with our friends in July of 2018. Please head to Luke’s website to check out more of his work, as he’s one of the most talented (and severely underrated) photographers and videographers I know. Enjoy!

 

 

Copyright © Technicolour Typewriter (Lucie Vovk) 2014-present. All rights reserved.

Goldfish

Cities are forgetful creatures.
They inhale lovers and exhale street corners
On which we exchange first kisses or phone numbers.
Seconds after leaving, the tarmac will lose the heat of our footfalls,
The camera pans left – the stonework sighs, witnesses, does not remember come morning.

I left for a year and returned only last week;
Under my belt I have tucked months of memory and new lessons.
The city knows my gait and I fall back into step with her
She does not ask where I’ve been, and does not care to know,
But tugs at the new bells swinging at my waist and tries to reabsorb me.
We’re much the same, you see –
Outwardly unchanged, inwardly transformed, both ill-equipped to discover quite how the other has changed on the inside.

OG9A8757.jpg

It’s the craziest thing
I woke up this morning and all I could think of
Was your smiles lined up like wheels of cheese
Eyes like river stones in clear sunshine
And hands pulling me up to run with you.

The spray of the waterfall tastes like liquid laughter
It runs down my back and settles at the base of my spine
And giggles through me for the rest of the day.

Storms come galloping towards us
And we feed them apples.

Soul-searching

The bear does not leave footprints.
Its paws touch pine needles but not earth
Its breath forms clouds
White and nebulous and warm.

Where did they go?

‘I cheated on my boyfriend and got crabs’: a haiku

‘ode to pubic lice’ by my dear sister who wishes to remain anonymous so this drawing doesn’t show up next to her name on professional websites

I told my boyfriend
“I sat down in the shower,”
I’m a good liar.

 

 

Copyright © Technicolour Typewriter (Lucie Vovk) 2014-present. All rights reserved.

Ode to Natural Disaster

My girl is like fire
She is rage and hunger and light
She dances on my funeral pyre like she was born for this,
Her feet scorched by her own heat,
Her eyes bright with her own fever,
At once alive and dying she flickers
Leaves behind scars too deep to conceal.
I can watch her and forget myself.