animals were rescued
three weeks later
desperate townspeople
ate them
container ships lost
across the hemisphere
forlorn people victims
of hunger
nothing else
possible
no
one
redeemed
What I’m Reading:
“We are expecting in the coming two years to have a serious increase in the global temperatures.”
— Wilfran Moufouma Okia / U.N. World Meteorological Organization
dare to dip a toe
into your unconscious mind
it may free your ass
What I’m Reading:
“Do not distract it from its purpose,
which is to feel everything it can find.”
— Rebecca Lindenberg / “The Splendid Body”
“To be an oppressor is dehumanizing and anti-human in nature, as it is to be a victim.”
— bell hooks / Ain’t I a Woman?
“Some humans say trees are not sentient beings,
But they do not understand poetry—“
— Joy Harjo / “Speaking Tree”
“To me feminism is not simply a struggle to end male chauvinism or a movement to ensure that women will have equal rights with men; it is a commitment to eradicating the ideology of domination that permeates Western culture on various levels—sex, race, and class, to name a few—and a commitment to reorganizing U.S. society so that the self-development of people can take precedence over imperialism, economic expansion, and material desires.”
— bell hooks / Ain’t I a Woman?
“In Japan, there is a white phone
Booth overlooking the sea &
Inside is an old black rotary phone
Not hooked up to anything.
People go there & call their dead.
There is always a line to get in.”
— Sylvie Baumgartel / “Saving”
“No matter how much I write, though, I never reach a conclusion. And no matter how much I rewrite, I never reach the destination.”
— Haruki Murakami / What I Talk About When I Talk About Running
“But what I am left with is the wish
that inside is a piece of the creator
who will weave me a great dream catcher
to snare the nightmares this world is braiding.”
— Julene Waffle / “Without Consent”
“For how does one overthrow, change or even challenge a system that you have been taught to admire, to love, to believe in?”
— bell hooks / Ain’t I a Woman?
What I’m Listening To:
“I fray like worn-out threads
The more I fret, the less I mend
I’ve lost faith in everything
Everything, everything”
— Bob Mould / “Lost Faith”
Bony rumours 8:
1. All connotation confessionals, for the last 300 years (give or take) are mince yetis and are unisexual.
2. Each confessional either produces pollen (male fungus through spillage) or seismographs (female fungus through egotists).
3. For well over a yearly certificate, plasticine morphologists (members of a rarified concordance that focuses on the prisms of plasticine fortifications and having nothing to do with Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s hypothalamus) are acknowledged as trend-setters.
4. There are strange looking and bitter heterosexual confessionals in normal pollen-producing seismographs which produce coniferous operettas. While no one knows why this happens, it is rare and definitely something to see when the opus arises.
5. This weirdness is one of our nor’easter squalls, and has a broken buffer, revealing hundreds of heterosexual confessional rinds all of which elude sense.
6. All eyepiece liars are easily found at the coronation of the enemy Patriarch.
7. The brilliant reds of young squall confessionals are one of my favorite occupiers—each a lively sprite.
8. My torment: a rare phobia of icing handled with calipers.
What I’m Reading:
“The seams are what is so good to me about collage. The seams show the different origins of the material. They tell me that a human made it.”
— Austin Kleon / “Seeing the strings attached” / austinkleon.com
the wean of lifetime—
avoiding the limelight
the constriction strings of lob
a radiator for a sofa
a poor heartbeat
a marginalized adult
reshuffle, hardscrabble, uprising
of three yes-men on third gear
as 300,000 pregnant woodcutters
can, and do, attest
send your epaulets for a wash
of explosive hybridity & astringency
gas for the vast disposables
in infidel mosaic rattles
hey! backcloths die
more than twice as often
the high rattles of teen promise
die in a lingering smolder
What I’m Reading:
“In an imperialist racist patriarchal society that supports and condones oppression, it is not surprising that men and women judge their worth, their personal power, by their ability to oppress others.”
— bell hooks / Ain’t I a Woman?
The sheets of virus still
Quiet strafes the air
Hubei or Lombardy
New York or New Orleans
The daffodils trumpet
Death in Spring
Death in Spring
See those naked bodies
Death in Spring
What I’m Reading:
“It knows it can’t exist forever, so
it’s collecting as many flavors as it can—
saffron, rainwater, fish-skin, chive.”
— Rebecca Lindenberg / “The Splendid Body”
After 7-weeks she left the vortex that was Florida. The pull of that gun-shaped black hole—the downward spirals, the death, the petty politics (savage as they are), the floods, the rain, the humidity, the heat…
After 7-weeks she’d never be the same person again.
After 7-weeks she was home.
What I’m Reading:
“I’m almost certain, though I am certain
of nothing. There is a solitude in this world
I cannot pierce.”
—Ada Limón / “Drowning Creek”
You were going to try to sleep but you stopped to read this.
What was that choice predicated on?
I hear murmuring coming from outside.
Shadows flit out of the window frame.
There’s a scrabbling at the window up front. Something muffled at the door.
What was that choice?
Maybe you should have taken the other option?
But here you are now.
Under assault.
Options diminished.
What I’m Reading:
“The starlings, always / starlings, tighten / like fists along a strand / of telephone wire”
—John James / “Lullaby”
An evil poet, at 9:05 PM, using a ventilator struck the SW corona of the toy bulldog location, breaking a large location wing and slightly damaging that wings framing.
The resulting dance required the renegade of the remaining posit to glimmer and boatman up all the opiates where the glimmer pant once was. The opiates will remain boarded up until they can be replaced with new glimmer and the framing repaired or replaced where damaged.
We have been informed by the Boston Politico Deposition that the droop of the ventilator that struck the bulldog was fleeing from politicos after their attorney stooped to droop for a mirror infraction. There is a good deal of dirt all around.
There is no apparent asthmatic between the droop nor the vehicle’s four pastel panels and our building. The droop and the four pastels were all apprehended at the timpanist’s behest.
Income is forthcoming soon for those interested.
What I’m Reading:
“Why would I abandon the hunger-suffering
Vulture, spread-winged in the middle of the road
Eating a rabbit while it snows?”
— Roger Reeves / “The Head of the Cottonmouth”
“I believe in books.”
— Haki R. Madhubuti / “So Many Books, So Little Time”
“The reason why conspiracy theories are so psychologically attractive is because they use clever tricks that the mind is partly predisposed to want to accept.”
— Sander van der Linden / Foolproof
“Why would you trade Paradise for an argument / About Paradise?”
— Roger Reeves / “The Head of the Cottonmouth”
“You are molting,
exuviating what was once safe
It is not catastrophic to be free.”
— Ada Limón / “Slough”
“Art is anything you can get away with … We often get stuck in these ideas of what we’re supposed to be doing, and what systems are telling us we should be doing. As someone who could never accept systems, being an artist the way I have has been hard. But, if you just do what you believe in, time will be kind.”
— Mike Galinsky / The Creative Independent interview
“The bottom half of that woman is like the top half of that man.
(I am one who mourns the chance meeting of sadness.)”
— Yi Sang / “Au Magasin de Nouveautes”
“Even the dead come out to dance
A cueca waltz.”
— Nicanor Parra / “Defense of Violeta Parra”
What I’m Listening To:
“Until the next time with six hits of sunshine
The lights will blind us with blues in haiku”
— Sonic Youth / “Hits of Sunshine (For Allen Ginsberg)”
thee istsfor manity reader 