Rupi Kaur – Fusion Nepal

An Ode to… is a weekly column where we share the stuff we’re really into in hopes that you’ll be really into it, too.

Getting ghosted by skaters is a subculture in itself — there’s a whole poetry account dedicated to it.

They’ll make eye contact with you at a party without actually approaching you, and then DM you three seconds after you leave with “Hey, saw you around.” They’ll invite you over to “just hang” but you’ll just end up watching their skate compilation videos before an underwhelming hook up. They’ll offer you a hit of their Juul before you go home, and then only text you back after they see your Instagram Story days later. They’ll probably brush off the casual ghosting with a “Sorry, I’m bad at texting,” and then ghost you again once you strike up a conversation — only to hit you up several weeks later and ask if you want to come over after their friend’s DIY show. Read more…

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We millennials like our poetry typed out in neat fonts on rustic pastel backgrounds, centred in a tiny square on a small screen. We read short, simple, and relatable poems which may strike a chord with us for a second before we scroll on to the next Timothée Chalamet appreciation post or #brunch pic.

I’m talking, of course, about poetry native to Instagram. A budding genre scoffed by the literary community but loved by millions of young readers.

This Insta-friendly verse, with its distinct tone and aesthetic, is serving sincerity and feeling in the place we need it the most: the ever ironic, cynical internet. It’s this vulnerability on a platform that’s more-often-than-not replete with inauthenticity and polished veneers that makes it so striking. Read more…

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