Natalie Calma

violinist | improviser


And just like that, still in front of him, she finally said it. “I don’t care for bats. I don’t care for bats or the people that carry them around on the streets, flying them on a leash! Bats on a leash! It’s absurd and I beg you, don’t make me go out again. I can’t stand the sight of it. They are there, like balloons floating, day after day, after day…”
He looked into her eyes, and after a pity hug to calm his beloved, he said “a minicow will suffice”

3 poems


If I close my eyes


I can see all those things

we do in our dreams (but

not those sleeping dreams)

the dreams that we talk

about. The real ones.


If I close my eyes


I see them so clearly (my eyes)


I also fall to the side

(the left side) My left

I think


If I close my eyes


Purple circles appear, with

Dots and dots and dots

Purple dots

(that don’t actually exist)



One day. I was horizontal.




I moved in circles, like

That injured opossum we saw in Florida,

Trying to eat.





But yes, I’m spinning in circles,

Or maybe I can’t tell you the shape

I’m making. Can you be certain

Of where things are? Their

Location in the universe? Is the wall on my head?

Is it on my foot? It is, isn’t it?

I broke my promise









My foot is on the wall

In the wall?

UNDER  the wall


That particular feeling of believing that every single thing you do is fake. When you realize that any moment now, someone will come, take your mask, expose your failure to anyone that cares.


How can I tell you that I can see every little detail that is wrong with me, and you, and him and her and them?


I see this place and I am certain, that any moment now, someone will stand and take my face, and my skin too, and all those muscles and things will fall on the ground, and my skeleton will remain there, ashamed for a couple of minutes, but then it will walk away and find a puddle to jump in and disintegrate, because it was mostly made of sugar