the mouse in the queen

i swear my heart twirled in my chest when i read gray’s and nadine’s introductory posts. i feel deeply lucky to rope these brilliant people into this project with me. so with that, thank u.

somehow tho, i have very much resisted writing my own. i suppose this is why i created the sprout club: to make space- and then disappear. i like that i can stand behind a curtain, doing my own lil celebratory dances to my favorite beepboop songs in honor of other people, and no one watches me do so. i like building a world, especially when i can watch others inhibit and interacting with it. i don’t think my presence in that space is all that vital to its existence, but the others' definitely are !

so thank you for being here. thank you for joining the club. you are welcome here, in all your eye-burning brilliance, your awkward weirdness, your messy bedroom floors, and those books you kick under the bed when someone comes over. it’s good to have you. i hope you don’t feel alone here. whoever you are. hiya. make yourself at home.

i call myself m. wilder, because it echoes the name my mama gave me, but fades away. it’s a sound, a gesture towards something, but nothing else. i used to use “mouse,” because i liked the idea that there’s a lion in every mouse, an unassuming creature that can, and probably will, ruin your life with an absurd mix of confidence and quietness. but i think i’m the only one who hears that when i say “mouse,” so,,,, the name's m. wilder. nice to meet you.

i am more or less in my 24th year of living, but look about 15. the most taurus sun, cancer moon you'll meet, but my mars is in aries, so i’m a loyalist who will happily shred your head if you cross whom i love, or if you don’t eat gluten because you think that’s a cute diet. bet. i am a youth librarian by trade, a poet by education. for “fun” i make myself syllabi (snore), do yoga and lift weights (roar), and collect degrees (chores). if you don’t dance at the concert, i will think you are weird.

in other words, my first tattoo will probably be a piece of bread because i can’t eat bread, and i am very sad about it. i associate memories with places, crave public transport, and resent plastic wrapped vegetables. my queen bed is my favorite possession, just ahead of my access to spotify, chai and matcha teas (loose leaf, trash isn’t appreciated in this house), my current journal, and my jackets. i'm in the midst of my masters degree in information sciences.

if you need to know one thing about me, let it be this: i made a list of nonbinary characters in YA books, and the public library i work for posted it across social media. today i noticed a queerphobe trolling this, and in the fit of rage, i impulsively bought a rainbow sweater. behold, my agenda:

everyone is welcome and valid here. everyone good is necessary. pull on a sweater. stay warm. stay soft.

my general goal is to promote movement and creation of content to combat mental and situational adversities, especially when i can back up my thoughts and loves with science or study. i hereby swear to cite my sources. i also work as an advisor and reception artist for the teen editors of Elementia magazine. you can also find my words in or forthcoming from journals and books such as rogue agent, cicada, nyt, desolate country, and letters to a young poet.

in the spirit of gray and nadine, my favorite filter is dramatic, my favorite instagram @the.holistic.psychologist, and i keep Women Who Run With the Wolves beside my bed, tho it veryyyy much irks me that it is gendered. people have said the following about me, and i trust their judgement: "shapeshifter," or "brooding, but not afraid to make connections," or "crying into books about politics is m's brand."


life is weird. let me know what you're thinking about.
m

​m wilder

is a poet-yogi-youth librarian, found here and here,  armed with coffee, poetry books, and a lot of questions. M's words may be found puddled in paper, and in various journals too.