Peel me a Book
Let's Peel
Killing Kanoko: Selected Poems by Hiromi Itō
Not memoir, not narrative, not lullaby. P
Perfect if you want to feel language seep into skin like river water.
Synopsis
“The milk flows from my breast bountifully...
The milk also flowed from her body.
There is so much rain.”
This isn’t poetry that asks for permission. It arrives. Through births and deaths, through migrations and motherhood, through ancestral spirits and muddy waters.
You don’t read these poems—you inherit them, like a whisper passed through umbilical cords.
Mood:
ritualistic · visceral · spiritual · maternal
Tone:
incantatory · earthy · mythic · intimate
It Feels Like
Body:
felt in the womb, the gut, and the throat
Tempo:
restless, surging, constantly shedding its skin
Texture:
raw silk tangled with roots
A Little Taste
“My grandmother was a medium / My mother was a magician / … / My daughter began speaking baby talk at two months / When the coyote speaks to her / She smiles and always responds.”
“I, a foetus / I, a woman / I, the channel between”
The Aftertaste
You may not understand every line—but you’ll feel them in your marrow
Peel With a Drink
To be read with a bowl of miso left steaming on an ancestral altar, or perhaps just a sip of water from a spring no one visits anymore. Drink slowly. This isn’t hydration—it’s remembering.
Peel With a Reel
Not for this section
Peel with a Beat
Peel me a Book
Or Try:
Cecilia Vicuña
She unravels language into ritual, weaving blood, earth, and exile into sacred fragments.
Let's Peel
Killing Kanoko: Selected Poems by Hiromi Itō
Not memoir, not narrative, not lullaby. P
Perfect if you want to feel language seep into skin like river water.
Synopsis
“The milk flows from my breast bountifully...
The milk also flowed from her body.
There is so much rain.”
This isn’t poetry that asks for permission. It arrives. Through births and deaths, through migrations and motherhood, through ancestral spirits and muddy waters.
You don’t read these poems—you inherit them, like a whisper passed through umbilical cords.
Mood:
ritualistic · visceral · spiritual · maternal
Tone:
incantatory · earthy · mythic · intimate
It Feels Like
Body:
felt in the womb, the gut, and the throat
Tempo:
restless, surging, constantly shedding its skin
Texture:
raw silk tangled with roots
A Little Taste
“My grandmother was a medium / My mother was a magician / … / My daughter began speaking baby talk at two months / When the coyote speaks to her / She smiles and always responds.”
“I, a foetus / I, a woman / I, the channel between”
The Aftertaste
You may not understand every line—but you’ll feel them in your marrow
Peel With a Drink
To be read with a bowl of miso left steaming on an ancestral altar, or perhaps just a sip of water from a spring no one visits anymore. Drink slowly. This isn’t hydration—it’s remembering.
Peel With a Reel
Not for this section