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Arina Kharlamova
128 followers -
rambling woman.
rambling woman.

128 followers
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You know, the older I get, the more I realize that the more you know, the more you realize you don’t know. For example, I wrote a poem for last year’s National Poetry Writing Month in April called “too much credit“. In it, I tried to explain that because…
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new poem: me as a weak introduction #poetry #amwriting #canlit

when i call myself a fighter, i whisper. (do not announce your strengths in front of your enemy, sip your wine slowly) when i call myself a woman, i make sure to show my degree, stuff sass around my credentials, build my credit with my russian literacy…
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Why I performed at TEDx and what this means to me now.

Hi all. Long time, no rumble. Life has been hectic and all-encompassing. I’m okay not writing sometimes because I’m too busy living. But let’s be real. At the end of the day, nothing makes sense if I can’t write. In 2015 I made it a goal to focus on…
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New poem! too warm to be cold, too wet to be sober #rambling #winter #poem

You are a city in January, overcast, with a wet bus rolling through it and its lights cut through the air like warm knives. Sparse crowds step in slush piles of dirty snow to get to the sidewalk. You are a foreign city in the midst of winter and I cannot…
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When I complained to my mother about fearing like I wanted love too much for it to actually come willingly to me, I invoked the saying, “A watched pot never boils,” to prove my point. She replied, “I bought a see-through teapot so I can watch it…
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new poem: someone I did not see #amwriting #poetry #canlit

I never learned to love someone I did not see. I learned to love the stoop of my grandmother’s back as she rinsed clean her fingers of beets as red as blood, for a table pregnant with love, for a family troubled as any. I learned to love the smell that…
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NEW POST: now, no place #poetry #poem #canlit #amwriting

Before you, there existed a place (inside me) a room. Unplastered. Under construction. Young kids without fear would come and graffiti the ceiling. I would scrub and scrub with a wire brush until my cuticles bled. Still, shadows. Echoes to paint over but…
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[poem] for want of exhaustion #amwriting #poetry #poem #canlit

I want to love you like an all-weekend Netflix binge, not just on Thursdays at 8. I want to love you like a vat of my favourite flowers sitting on my windowsill in Moscow in January; like thank you for existing with me in the winter when so few do. I want…
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the pomegranate and the ashtray (poem) #amwriting #poetry

i lay two versions of myself on page. on opposing pages there are two of my wholes: one ripe, the other rotting. every day i pick one in small increments, absorb their essence become either perfection or fault. the question was not to take a bite of each,…
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(29/30) see what you become #amwriting #poetry #poem #canlit #napowrimo

I pick at the places on my head under my hair the warts the boils the blisters. I wonder if you are hiding under any of them? It took me a lifetime to look in the mirror and not see a frog. These days the rain falls on our roof and I wonder what it […]
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