cathedral
A poem by Gwen Aube, originally published in Vol. 3.1 (2023)
placing a dried & discarded raspberry into your pocket, you whisper seed-speak. i half-hear. miasmafucking. a bird explodes out the earth and becomes princess of everything. i eat a sweet potato burrito crying in a way that "feels ancient". you eat a sweet potato burrito or already have. somewhere in the plateau, a man bets his ferrari on our future together, a bird tunnels back into earth grinning wildly, a perfect harmony rings a cathedral of collapse. your friends are smart, and like me.
Gwen Aube is the author of Missed Connections with Tall Girls (2026, LittlePuss Press). She is a 2026 Al Purdy A-Frame Artist-In-Residence, a finalist for the 2025 PEN Canada New Voices Award, and a Kevin Killian Scholarship recipient for the Jack Kerouac School. She lives on couches, often in Montreal.


i loved this piece and the concept of “seed-speak!” ❤️