CONNECT/NOTHING

F. shouted

[bostonpoetryslam]

Why is the statue pointing at the window? And do we always carve ourselves toward escape?

August Smith, “Frozen in a Mind Song,” from Malfunctions (via bostonpoetryslam)

[drziggystardust]

The s/m concept of “vanilla” sex is sex devoid of passion. They are saying that there can be no passion without unequal power. That feels very sad and lonely to me, and destructive. The linkage of passion to dominance/subordination is the prototype of the heterosexual image of male-female relationships, one which justifies pornography. Women are supposed to love being brutalized. This is also the prototypical justification of all relationships of oppression—that the subordinate one who is “different” enjoys the inferior position.

A Burst of Light: Essays by Audre Lorde  (via llleighsmith)

[lifeinpoetry]

I have swallowed whole all remnants of my past life.

DéLana R. A. Dameron, from “Desert,” Weary Kingdom: Poems (via lifeinpoetry)

[llleighsmith]

i have been thinking a lot about that poster that says “i am not a woman i an a lesbian” and how to navigate the world as a lesbian is so radically different in relation to how you see your body how you view sex how you relate to other women how you navigate through the world, how many times a day do i play a part where i have to pretend to relate to a straight woman in order to.. socialize, watch any piece of media, live my life.. life through a lesbian lens feels so radically different than the common narrative, it can be so isolating to exist in a world that does not exist for us, it feels so necessary to come home to the safety of other lesbians, to slip into that world of comfort and women like me and how we love and care for one another, it’s amazing how often in the day feels like we’re starved for that kind of community and intimacy that other women take for granted

[lifeinpoetry]

My tongue back in my mouth like some small bird, love running from me like a feral deer.

— Sarah Fletcher, from “An Evening at the Crown,” published in The Adroit Journal

[nyctaeus]

Ad Reinhardt, from ‘How to Look at Art, Arts & Architecture’ (1946)

[lifeinpoetry]

I wish the god of this place would put me in its mouth until I dissolve, until the field doesn’t end and I am broken down like a rifle

Matt Rasmussen, from “A Horse Grazes in My Shadow,” Black Aperture (via lifeinpoetry)

[vijara]

lately i’ve been replacing my “i’m sorry”s with “thank you”s, like instead of “sorry i’m late” i’ll say “thanks for waiting for me”, or instead of “sorry for being such a mess” i’ll say “thank you for loving me and caring about me unconditionally” and it’s not only shifted the way i think and feel about myself but also improved my relationships with others who now get to receive my gratitude instead of my negativity

[etereas]

This is some 2017 mood

[lifeinpoetry]

if asked by God or the hush we’ll slip into at the end, who was your favorite storm, your adored calamity, who kissed you most like hunger?

— Bob Hicok, from “Churn,” Sex & Love &

[freshmoviequotes]

Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man (2005)

[bostonpoetryslam]

When a man says knife is no form of seduction he means he’s never been split. But doesn’t everyone have a seam? Unravel to dark sugar?

Cameron Awkward-Rich, “Essay on What Is & Isn’t,” published in The Shade Journal (via bostonpoetryslam)

[lifeinpoetry]

I wanted to wake up and find that I was five years old and my parents and neighbors would say, “My, my, what an imagination.” I wanted to be physically erased and start over again. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be there. I guess I wanted to be nowhere, I wanted to listen to my brain talk inside of nothingness. I wanted to be untouchable and have no need…

— David Wojnarowicz, from Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration

[thequotejournals]

I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses. To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.

Jeanette Winterson, Why I Adore the Night (via flemethe)

[lifeinpoetry]

Sometimes it gets dark in here behind these eyes I feel like the physical equivalent of a scream.

David Wojnarowicz, from “Into the Drift and Sway,” Memories that Smell Like Gasoline (via lifeinpoetry)

[feministdonut-deactivated201506]

When a world does not accommodate how you are, when you appear wrong in some way, feeling wrong in your body, being wrong in your body, loving the wrong body, mourning a wronged body, you have to be less accommodating if you are to persist in being who you are being.

sara ahmed (via llleighsmith)

[margot-terc]

from “get yours” zine

[boykeats]

Maggie Nelson, The Argonauts