his kiss, the riot

jimmy | they/he | 30s and so the poor boy asked the king

[apoemaday]

Looking Back

by Ursula K. Le Guin

Remember me before I was a heap of salt, The laughing child who seldom did as she was told or came when she was called, The merry girl who became Lot’s bride, The happy woman who loved her wicked city. Do not remember me with pity. I saw you plodding on ahead into the desert of your pitiless faith. Those springs are dry; that earth is dead. I looked back, not forward, into death. Forgiving rains dissolve me, and I come still disobedient, still happy, home.

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“I have no eye for eternity. I know only this world, where May’s light lengthens into June’s long days, and someone I love”

— Robert Cording, from section 2, “June Prayer,” of “Four Prayers,” Image (no. 56, Winter 2007-2008)

[cultfriends]

oscillogram and spectrogram of the sentence "Where were you a year ago"

[cloudswamp]

there is only one of everything, margaret atwood

[heavensghost]

Words by Andrea Gibson

[petaltexturedskies]

You came to the side of the bed and sat staring at me. Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. I wanted it to leave a mark: that's how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end—

Louise Glück, from "The Encounter"

[verytruly-yours]

[autometaphorical]

Iphigenia asks the Pythia about her fate • April 2026

[derangedrhythms]

Caitlin Bailey, Solve for Desire; from 'Incantare'

[batbetbitbotbut]

starting a collection

attributed to Lily Tomlin; Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky; ilene_cecelia, reddit; Pratchett, Night Watch; Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky; Pirkei Avot 2:21; Ursula K. le Guin, Tehanu

[elodieunderglass]

““The gods have no hands in this world but ours. If we fail Them, where then can They turn?””

— The Hallowed Hunt (World of the Five Gods) by Lois McMaster Bujold

[derangedrhythms]

John Berryman, Love & Fame; from ‘Eleven Addresses to the Lord’

TEXT ID: Bear in mind me, Who have forgotten nothing,

[catilinas]

Franny Choi, Soft Science

[heavenlyyshecomes]

Preverbal, love is the smell of a known body, the touch of a recognized hand, the blurred face in a haze of light. Words come, and love sharpens. Love becomes describable, narratable, relatable. Over time, one love comes to lay atop another, a mother’s love, a father’s love, a lover’s love, a friend’s love, an enemy’s love. This promiscuous mixing of feelings and touches, of smiles and cries in the dark, of half-hushed pleasures and heart-cracking pain, of shared unutterable intimacies and guttural expressions, layer in embellished bricolage. One love coats another, like the clear pages of an anatomy textbook, drawing pictures of things we can only ever see in fractions. With the coming of words, love writes and is then overwritten; love is marginalia illegibly scrawled in your own illegible hand. In time, love becomes a dense manuscript, a palimpsest of inscrutable, epic proportions, one love overlaying another, thick and hot and stinking of beds. It’s an unreadable mess.

— Chelsea G. Summers, A Certain Hunger

[apoemaday]

Looking Back

by Ursula K. Le Guin

Remember me before I was a heap of salt, The laughing child who seldom did as she was told or came when she was called, The merry girl who became Lot’s bride, The happy woman who loved her wicked city. Do not remember me with pity. I saw you plodding on ahead into the desert of your pitiless faith. Those springs are dry; that earth is dead. I looked back, not forward, into death. Forgiving rains dissolve me, and I come still disobedient, still happy, home.

[salemwitchtrials-deactivated202]

‘Agamemnon,’ Aeschylus (translated by Anne Carson)

[havingapoemwithyou]

somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond by e.e. cummings

[pigeonculttt]

The Trans Agenda is to Keep My F*cking Friends Alive — sol rios

published as part of the Citizen Trans* {Project} by New Words Press

[this-is-my-goddamn-revolt]

[ID: The Trans Agenda Is To Keep My F*cking Friends Alive

sol rios

At 2pm and 2am. Sleep, I remember you. Please, wait for me. I send out 7 reminders to eat a day. Like little paper lifeboats. It’s nothing. And it keeps me afloat. I forget to eat too. I need company for my shot. .3ml of Estradiol over facetime. I tell my friend I’m being a baby about it, she says woman up. Daylight savings swallows up the hour in question. I was going to sit in the bathtub until you responded. And I need you to keep you alive for me. Just until Thursday. Just through to 6 am. I can send you 14 dollars for soup. I can lend you my ears. You’ll need both hands to hold a heart. Your razor clinking against the counter. In a dream I almost slip into, I reach through the phone and hide the blade in my open palm, before you notice. Text me, I say. In the morning. I love you. I need you alive. We can figure out the rest tomorrow. With or without sleep. With or without the light of the morning. /END ID]