from the archives of octavia butler
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Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Andulka
Cosmic Funnies

Kiana Khansmith
tumblr dot com
i don't do bad sauce passes
Acquired Stardust
Today's Document
taylor price
YOU ARE THE REASON

Discoholic šŖ©

@theartofmadeline
d e v o n
$LAYYYTER
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
cherry valley forever

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@feignedlikelihood
from the archives of octavia butler
Eileen Myles. Noted.Ā
Joanne Ho
wonāt you celebrate with me / what i have shaped into / a kind of life
Lucille Clifton, fromĀ The Book of Light (via lifeinpoetry)
Frontispiece. The anatomy of sight.Ā Optical truths. 1898.
āWe live in a culture that celebrates activity. We collapse our sense of who we are into what we do for a living. The public performance of busyness is how we demonstrate to one another that we are important. The more people see us as tired, exhausted, over-stretched, the more they think we must be somehow ⦠indispensable. That we matter.ā
ā Roshi Joan Halifax, Standing at the Edge: Finding Freedom Where Fear and Courage Meet
go to the country and never be online
Tired and blurry, unsure.Ā
I love to watch people in the metro. They always seem more real to me // ā¦my Instagram
I laughed and said, āLife is easy.ā What I meant was, āLife is easy with you here, and when you leave, it will be hard again.
Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You (via wordsnquotes)
My Ancestry DNA Results by Fred LaMotte
My Ancestry DNA results came in. Just as I suspected, my great great grandfather was a monarch butterfly.
Much of who I am is still wriggling under a stone. I am part larva, but part hummingbird too.
There is dinosaur tar in my bone marrow.
My golden hair sprang out of a meadow in Palestine.
Genghis Khan is my fourth cousin, but I didnāt get his dimples.
My loins are loaded with banyan seeds from Sri Lanka, but I descended from Ravanna, not Ram.
My uncle is a mastodon.
There are traces of white people in my saliva.
3.7 billion years ago I swirled in golden dust, dreaming of a planet overgrown with lingams and yonis.
More recently, say 60,000 B.C. I walked on hairy paws across a land bridge joining Sweden to Botswana.
I am the bastard of the sun and moon.
I can no longer hide my heritage of raindrops and cougar scat.
I am made of your grandmotherās tears.
You conquered rival tribesmen of your own color, chained them together, marched them naked to the coast, and sold them to colonials from Savannah.
I was that brother you sold, I was the slave trader, I was the chain.
Admit it, you have wings, vast and golden, like mine, like mine.
You have sweat, black and salty, like mine, like mine.
You have secrets silently singing in your blood, like mine, like mine.
Donāt pretend that earth is not one family. Donāt pretend we never hung from the same branch. Donāt pretend we donāt ripen on each otherās breath. Donāt pretend we didnāt come here to forgive.
Julia de Burgos, from Song of the Simple Truth: Selected Poems; āI Want to Talk to God,ā (x)
in the lake
today i felt the beauty of silky lake water enveloping my skin
my body treading through
the ink blue and
my legs dipping in and out
of the waves before
they crash into driftwood and algae encased rocks
my arms waving to the deep
below, and my mouth
releasing lake water and saliva
dripping down my chin
returning to the lake
comfort is settling into my being as i swim farther into the lake
and my person slices through the waves
alongside me
and we are just dots of flesh Ā
to the birds gliding above
they donāt see the lake water caress my freshly shaven legs
as i frog kick
and break into breaststroke
as my heart breaks into a million little pieces
and falls to the murky bottom
a bursting of feeling
cracking open my aorta, atria, ventricles, valves and all
the only appropriate response
to perfection in this life