July 2012
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A lot of misogynist press has taught us to scorn feminism as relegated to the...
– AnOther Thing I Wanted to Tell You - Antony Hegarty on Future Feminism | AnOther
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White Migraine by Michael Dickman
Every color there ever was is white It peels the skin back from the roof of your mouth in metal petals that taste like snow The roof of the world My fingernails floating in milk The moon flushed down a toilet Everything I ever wanted glows in the moonlight Ask him what he wants I want to be sick and white and cough up lilies of the valley * The Matterhorn in my shoulders ruptures in the toilet...
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"that which is sounded out loudly"
Chanting auṃ while sucking cock the pillow of your pelvic bone, my soft hungry mouth if you whip me with liquorice I will breast feed you on rose milk. You are God, that’s why I swallow.
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In Pain I Breathe, Rumi
In pain, I breathe easier The scared child is running from the house, screaming. I hear the gentleness. Under nine layers of illusion, whatever the light, on the face of any object, in the ground itself, I see your face. translated by John Moyne & Coleman Barks
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A sensible girl would have barked like a dog before God.
– The Erotic Philosophers by Carolyn Kizer : The Poetry Foundation
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Duende by Tracy K. Smith
1. The earth is dry and they live wanting. Each with a small reservoir Of furious music heavy in the throat. They drag it out and with nails in their feet Coax the night into being. Brief believing. A skirt shimmering with sequins and lies. And in this night that is not night, Each word is a wish, each phrase A shape their bodies ache to fill— I’m going to braid...
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Winter Song, Carolyn Kizer
So I go on, tediously on and on… We are separated, finally, not by death but life. We cling to the dead, but the living break away. On my birthday, the waxwings arrive in the garden, Strip the trees bare as my barren heart. I put out suet and bread for December birds: Hung from evergreen branches, greasy gray Ornaments for the rites of the winter solstice. How can you and I meet face to face...
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Sleeping Beauty, Olga Broumas
I sleep, I sleep too long, sheer hours hound me, out of bed and into clothes, I wake still later, breathless, heart racing, sleep peeling off like a hairless glutton, momentarily slaked. Cold water shocks me back from the dream. I see lovebites like fossils: something that did exist dreamlike, though dreams have the perfect alibi, no fingerprints, evidence that a mirror could float back in your...
1 tag
beloved your word is
holy water, then honey
bathe me, then smear me in it
help me name love
with and without my body
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tentacular:
‘I quit because I was good, and when you’re good and a girl at something, you should be suspicious.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of what part of yourself you didn’t know you were selling.’
Kirsten Kaschock, Sleight
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Love Poem, Gregory Orr
A black biplane crashes through the window of the luncheonette. The pilot climbs down, removing his leather hood. He hands me my grandmother’s jade ring. No, it is two robin’s eggs and a telephone number: yours.
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To An American God
praxymetry:
You will not turn my people against each other and call it Faith. You will not turn agriculture against the earth and call it Science. We are not sheep. We are hungry.
You will not set fire to the air and sell my daughters nakedness. You will not reveal yourself to my sons and call them wise. We are not fooled. We are weeping.
You will not present me two options and bellow: CHOICE!...
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Strategy is an art that requires not only a different way of thinking but an...
– Robert Greene — The 33 Strategies of War
ludimagister
33
(via thewww)
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I don’t usually write about men, until I’ve touched them
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The Weather
sladegibbs:
Forecast: a flurry of souls to be appearing late afternoon. The rest of the day: a linger of wondering why everyone looks so sad in the park. Here are the only trees for blocks, the breathing is better. This evening: isolated incidents of collective bloodflow; a couple million persons per capita all glossing up lonely in the dictionary to see if they can aptly define...
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