edited by courtney marie
We’re delighted to share this week’s featured writer with you, though it’s likely he’s a poet you’ve met before! Ryan Creery has been writing, performing, and collaborating with Spiderweb for many years now, from zines to festival showcases and masquerades and even recently sharing work in our Poetry on the Air project, where you can hear him breathe life into one of our favorite poems of his: Diamonds. And lucky for all of us, Ryan will be reading poems this week at Cheers for Queers, an event celebrating National Coming Out Day this Thursday at Wine2! We hope you’ll take this wonderful opportunity to come support many of our community’s queer-identifying artists and queer-serving organizations.
One thing we love about Ryan’s work is his ability to make even the most desperate and seemingly hopeless moments precious and beautiful. His words feel like a thin beam of light peeking through the curtains. Ryan wrote much of the following poem, Paris Song, this September, prompted by a bit of "midnight inspiration” (he finds this is the time of the day the poetry comes easiest). The piece explores the transition from heartbreak to hope, where one may finally uncover a little bit of solace in the solitude after the loss of a relationship. We hope you find a little bit of peace in his words, too.
Ryan’s advice for other writers and artists? Everything is relative: “‘Good’ isn't based on quantity of readers or viewers. ‘Good’ comes through when you trust your style and inspiration and it comes through fully.” Trust yourself. Keep creating. Don’t give up.
Even though it's a warm evening
I sit up in bed
and wonder what Paris would be like
if I were with you.
I'd hum a song
that would stick on you
and we'd call it
our "Chanson de Paris".
We had so many songs together back then.
Though it's been so long,
every time I hear the words,
"...let our hearts discover",
I remember you in the kitchen,
and it was so pitch black at night
I could watch your face reflected
in the window
(that's how dark it got there).
Even though it's midnight,
I'm hearing your morning voice
echoing from downstairs,
soft, but full.
cold, wet curls
lick my forehead;
I realize, suddenly,
I could call in sick,
if only to spend all day long
holding onto that moment for memory's sake,
so I would have it there forever.
But I didn't
and yet I never forgot.
Even though I don't live there anymore,
I envy what's inside that apartment now,
absorbing what's left of your exhalations
and the air and dust that held our sparks.
We loved there once.
And now I sit in a room
where the only thing I have left are possibilities.
A lovely little room
awash in memories I'll never shake off;
a thin film of yesterday's ramblings;
an open window,
the answers to tomorrow's questions.
Ryan Creery is a Senior Freelance Writer and owner of a writing services business, The Word Barber. He has written hundreds of poems, short form, and advertising pieces that have been featured in Huffington Post, DHome Magazine, Love Inc Magazine and Eber & Wein. He is currently working on a fairy tale zine series and a children's zine, The Good Witch.
Be sure to check out Spiderweb’s other featured artists here! Interested in sharing your work with the Spiderweb Salon editors? We want to read what you’ve got! Send your good stuff to our submissions page here.