A sample of The Gods We Made
The Gods We Made
Poems | Blake Auden
Thought Catalog Books — thoughtcatalog.com
Copyright © 2023 Blake Auden.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior written consent and permission from Thought Catalog.
Published by Thought Catalog Books, an imprint of Thought Catalog, a digital magazine owned and operated by The Thought & Expression Co. Inc., an independent media organization founded in 2010 and based in the United States of America. For stocking inquiries, contact stockists@shopcatalog.com.
Produced by Chris Lavergne and Noelle Beams
Cover and internal design by Blake Auden
Cover illustration by Mine Hyde
Interior artwork by Blake Auden and Mine Hyde
Creative editorial direction by Brianna Wiest
Circulation management by Isidoros Karamitopoulos
thoughtcatalog.com | shopcatalog.com
First Edition, Limited Edition Pressing
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-1-949759-78-5
Contents
I
- a definition of trauma — 13
- the fox — 14
- how to be a poet — 17
- memento mori — 18
- in this dream, we are never okay — 19
- when i’m gone — 20
- the bonfire — 21
- self-referral — 22
- machine — 24
- the wild soundtrack — 25
- poem, salvaged — 26
- homecoming — 29
- small poem (i) — 30
- small poem (ii) — 31
- the day opens — 32
- each winter, the weakest — 33
- femur — 34
- there are no guns in england — 36
- something rotten beneath the floor — 37
- sleep, remembered — 39
- i mark the page — 40
- an evening ritual for those of us afraid to die — 41
II
- a definition of grief — 45
- the night gathers every dying bird — 46
- pity the living. grieve the dead. — 47
- prognosis — 48
- mineral ruin — 49
- everything is carried — 50
- vessel — 51
- rest for the hunted — 52
- depression as another person — 53
- failed attempt — 54
- notes on torture — 55
- the first stage — 56
- how i talk to my father about grief. — 57
- i escape to the forest, just once, and it was too late — 58
- prayer — 60
- reversal — 61
- soft — 62
- process of accumulation — 63
- end of therapy — 64
- aubade — 67
- returning — 68
- too much — 69
- again, to war — 70
- things i’ll remember — 72
- everything fades — 73
- writer’s block — 74
- diptych — 75
- grief in ten parts — 76
III
- a definition of time — 81
- mythos — 82
- to mistake life for purpose — 83
- i would burn it all — 84
- ‘travel’ comes from a middle-english word meaning torture — 86
- 113,568 hours since i stopped drinking — 88
- 92,855 hours since i took drugs — 89
- nam mater mea — 90
- i shouldn’t question everything good — 94
- the bird lay still — 95
- thursday, evening — 96
- nameless — 97
- maybe this will be the last — 98
- ars poetica as meaning — 100
- brighton, ten years later — 101
- an exhibition of loss — 102
- tether, released — 103
- be still, and let it find you — 105
- home is the softest of words — 106
- everything lives where the river goes — 107
- haiku for the interim — 108
- a soft memory — 109
- unproud — 111
- quae sunt absentis — 112
- about blake auden — 115
- about mine hyde — 117
- about the new normal charity — 119
- notes — 120
for rebecca,
for allowing me to be the man i’m supposed to be,
for my parents,
who will always be the best people i know,
and for anyone else to have
the misfortune
of loving me.
Visit the YouTube channel linked by the book’s QR code
I
TRAUMA (traw-mah)
noun
an ache;
a tumour;
tenderness
remembered
as an act of war.
The Fox
in the dream
i scoop the fox
into my father’s coat
and carry him
to the river.
he drinks.
i sharpen a stone
against my teeth
and cut the future
into him.
he cries.
snaps at my hands
as they enter
and find themselves
against the dying.
i pull it out of him,
careful not to leave
myself behind.
still he shivers, fading
until i wash the red
from the orange
and stitch his body
with endings.
he lives—we both do,
and death isn’t the only
expression of mercy.
