Juanita

[d0pefashi0n]

[the-devil-wears-zara]

[smallpea]

[prairiebones-deactivated2019012]

“My strength is defined, not by what I continue to carry, but by what I have allowed myself to put down.”

page 136 of ‘honeybee’, by Trista Mateer

[pochowek]

every culture has a little dish that just translates to “we threw everything into that fucking pot we’re poor”

[tristamateer]

“i like to tell myself that i wasn’t really in love with you but even on the months i forget to pay my credit card bills, i still remember to check your horoscope.”

— Trista Mateer (via my-dear-white-skeleton)

[carrieabigstick]

This Year I Mean to Be an Elephant  From You Are Not Dead I don’t know if you understand me when  I say hopefully there is a future and we  are both allowed in it. I mean last year it  was OK just to be flattened by our ideas.  I sat in so many rooms and eventually felt  interesting and not like a chair. Do you  feel like a straight line? I worry about how  I don’t. I worry that when I turn on  the radio this morning it sounds just like I expect. I am thinking about kicking what I expect in the shin. Last year I forgot whole people until having lunch again with those people. Last year I forgot really embarrassing secrets like how I am allergic to regular soap. Cue all different kinds of light and what music makes you feel not dead. Last night I dreamt about sand.  -Wendy Xu

“The poem is at last between two persons instead of two pages." 

-Frank O'Hara, "Personism: A Manifesto”

[da-da-sk]

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

da-da-sk, untitled, 2018

[missgypsyymoon]

[lilcr0issant]

[grafixandnoirandgarage-deactiva]

[yimmyayo]

[fckimsorry]

[5tn]

[elvicioabsurdo-deactivated20230]

Por la noche estoy viva.

Por la mañana, muerta,

un antiguo navío que ha gastado el combustible,

cruda y de huesos pálidos.

Sin milagro, sin deslumbre.

Canción de luna, canción de mujer, Anne Sexton. Poemas de amor.

[soracities]

“If love is anything tangible, it is his mouth his mouth, his holy god damned mouth. He says my name and the whole sky is talking.”

— Caitlyn Siehl, from ‘Tasting the Moon’

[myownmelting]

"GREAT CLOUD" by Wendy Xu

It is challenging to be made and then set down In the world to wait for news To acknowledge that news when it comes for you It clings to your leg It becomes the ugliest part of your face I feel like emptiness is everyone’s best option As in: I have room I have made it I am not brimming over just yet When I see that fantastic pink cloud on my way home I want to know what is inside it I visualize it transcending its literal function And the place that it goes is purposefully secret When I think about freedom I am overwhelmed By my own authority Becoming some kind of gorgeous in the dark Where I hold a giant plastic candle I object to not speaking on someone’s behalf You are not a lump they have silenced In time the sky becomes a better lobster