[bostonpoetryslam]

god of smoke and watered down vodka. god of mirrors and god of fathers dressed in bent coat hangers. god of boys who stripped off their skin. god of closets and plaster replicas of gods. god of weighted scales and homes transformed into catapults. god, why do you let some boys float and some go to mud?

Sam Sax, “Gambling Myths,” published in Boston Review (via bostonpoetryslam)

[bostonpoetryslam]

when you move you move like a carousel of flames see: a row of broken chairs in the pinerot see: a petal pressed between needle and skin

Kaveh Akbar, “Poem to a Conquerer,” published in The Rumpus (via bostonpoetryslam)

[safia-elhillo]

2 poems in the new issue of The Lifted Brow!

[darius4444]

New poem up at Reservoir Lit

[safia-elhillo]

asmarani in blue lipstick. Alien Suite, courtesy of Button Poetry

[bostonpoetryslam]

i put a spell on you it called for 3/5s of my blood apple pie, red bones & a full moon but instead i did it in the daylight, wanting you to see me ending you stupid stupid me i know better than to fuck with a recipe

Danez Smith, “You’re Dead, America,” published in Buzzfeed’s Reader (via bostonpoetryslam)

[bostonpoetryslam]

You who did and did not survive You who cleaned the kitchens You who built the railroad tracks and roads You who replanted the trees, listening to the work of squirrels and birds, you are who I love You whose blood was taken, whose hands and lives were taken, with or without your saying Yes, I mean to give. You are who I love.

Aracelis Girmay, “You Are Who I Love,” featured by Split This Rock (via bostonpoetryslam)

[darius4444]

I’m back!

Forthcoming publications:

Axis, Spinning - Reservoir Magazine

So Many Lights Out the Corner of My Eye - Lambda Literary Foundation

[darius4444]

the last poem from my suite of Arthur Russell is up at Germ Magazine

[darius4444]

my dad just told me to never give up poetry

[bostonpoetryslam]

Poets are born to be witnesses, but sometimes we forget that that also means witnessing our own lives in a way that is unflinching and often painful. Our truths are harder than most truths, because we have the tools to find and deconstruct them.

Patricia Smith, interviewed by Leslie Anne Mcilroy for HEArt Online (via bostonpoetryslam)

[darius4444]

Chill times

[beetroots-blog-deactivated20181]

My body frequently humiliated my thought, my body badly constructed, full of graceless mutinies.

Claude Cahun, Disavowals or Cancelled Confessions (translated by Susan de Muth)

[darius4444]

wow! i'm so humbled and excited to be on

SF Weekly's list of Best Writers without a Book 2014

check it out ---> here!

[darius4444]

Self portrait of the artist: An old woman is holding me, fat rolls sunny side up swaddled and quiet, the neighbor stands on a ledge outside to peer into my window, sees the old woman holding a baby, the baby is red with a rash and the old woman is see through, ghosts usually are.

[bostonpoetryslam]

A gunnysack full of tigers wrestles in our chests— They pace, stalking our hearts, building a jail with their stripes. Each tail a fuse. Each eye a cinder. Chest translates to bomb.

Natalie Diaz, “Small Thundering,” published in Drunken Boat (via bostonpoetryslam)

[bostonpoetryslam]

When you begin writing a poem into space, formal verse gives you a structure and architecture for that poem; to me it seems the real work of a writer is discovering within a poem its rules and regulations, the channels for its energy…the reason I think writing formal verse is easier in general to write than free verse is that it’s harder: it makes the poet work harder. It is easier to be lazy in free verse, easier not to pay attention to either music or meaning, easier to throw an improperly balanced pot, as it were.

Kazim Ali, interviewed by Joey De Jesus for Kin (via bostonpoetryslam)