Milane Livour

Well I feel like I need a little sympathy, baby. l❤ ♀l 

[nosferatuprivilege]

my favorite block on the aids quilt

[jaamun]

We need to learn that a poem can have many meanings and that it can be enjoyed without a complete understanding of the poet's intent

On a good day a poem might bring you great joy, on a tough day, the same poem might reveal great agony, but the poem hasn't changed—it's what you have brought to the poem that has changed

That is how I have come to think about poetry—that a poem isn't a problem to solve, but rather it's a singular animal call that contains multiple layers of both mystery and joy.

- Mystery & Birds: 5 Ways to Practice Poetry, Ada Limon

[kvothes]

marie howe, in an interview with krista tippett of on being

[no-longer-another-bondi-blonde]

I don’t think any piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has affected me. It’s called “Can’t Help Myself” and it’s a robot arm that’s programmed to clean up the fluid that’s constantly leaking out of itself, that looked like a never ending flow of blood. It has programmed dance moves to make it appear to have human gestures. And at first, it seemed happy and proud of its job, dancing around when it had visitors. But three years later, it looks tired, hopeless, and like it’s living in a never ending cycle of constantly trying to put itself back together for the entertainment of other people. And when I found out that it had finally stopped working in 2019, essentially dying, I couldn’t help but imagine the relief it must’ve felt and so I’ve been in here crying over a robot arm. 🥺 It was programmed this way, it truly couldn’t help itself. And no one ever helped him, they just watched.

[goohlish]

In this work commissioned for the Guggenheim Museum, Sun Yuan & Peng Yu employ an industrial robot, visual-recognition sensors, and software systems to examine our increasingly automated global reality, one in which territories are controlled mechanically and the relationship between people and machines is rapidly changing. Placed behind clear acrylic walls, their robot has one specific duty, to contain a viscous, deep-red liquid within a predetermined area. When the sensors detect that the fluid has strayed too far, the arm frenetically shovels it back into place, leaving smudges on the ground and splashes on the surrounding walls.

Sun Yuan & Peng Yu are known for using dark humor to address contentious topics, and the robot’s endless, repetitive dance presents an absurd, Sisyphean view of contemporary issues surrounding migration and sovereignty. However, the bloodstain-like marks that accumulate around it evoke the violence that results from surveilling and guarding border zones. Such visceral associations call attention to the consequences of authoritarianism guided by certain political agendas that seek to draw more borders between places and cultures and to the increasing use of technology to monitor our environment.

[gaycop]

this really is one of my favorite modern art pieces and you cannot do it justice without a video. the speed and manner in which it moves is captivating

[takemyrevolutions]

Rhiannon McGavin

[honeygleam]

the transformation of two lovers johnny corncob (1973) dir. marcell jankovics

[weltenwellen]

Mary Oliver, from "Bone", Why I Wake Early

[projectiondepartment]

every time it rains i think of that raymond carver poem. poetry is like prayer to me methinks. or an incantation

[projectiondepartment]

this one btw

[unbotheredmuse]

[metamorphesque]

What the Living Do, Marie Howe

[cloudbeam]

Written for her brother, John Howe, who died of complications of AIDS

[itsgonnabeanofrommedawg]

full poem:

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of. It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it. Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: I am living. I remember you.

[dyke-o-matic]

Thinking about how Portrait of a Lady on Fire said that even if an encounter is brief, the love surrounding it can be lasting and it enriches your life and changes you and that’s never a tragedy

[luthienne]

Christian Wiman, from Once in the West; "Music Maybe"

[Text ID: one wants in the end just once to be friend / one's own loneliness, // to make of the ache of inwardness— // something, // music maybe,]

[forestgreenlesbian]

obsessed with how often women describe falling in love with other women as a quieting, a moment of stillness and calm where before there was noise.

[forestgreenlesbian]

Kathee Muzin on the first time she fell in love with a woman, from The Montreal Gazette, 1991

Poetry published in Come Out, 1972

First Love Poem in Recent Memory, Julien Baker

[kafk-a]

Marguerite Duras

[beguines]

Yes, there is a place / where someone loves you both before / and after they learn what you are.

Neil Hilborn, "Lake", The Future

[softanimalbody]

“I’ve seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write… and you know it’s a funny thing about housecleaning… it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman. A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (or over-respectabilty) to steal her necessary creative rests, riffs, and raptures. She simply must put her foot down and say no to half of what she believes she “should” be doing. Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only.”

— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype    

[khayriya-deactivated20210620]

when jenny slate said ‘i’m tired of sinking down to a lower place to be with men. i am tired of throwing a tarp over some of my personality so that the shape of my identity suits some gross man a little better for whatever shitty things he needs to do in order to keep his boring identity erect and supreme’ and ‘i can’t become smaller to fit into a crouching love in somebody else’s meager world. i don’t do that anymore’ and ‘who will meet me at once in all of my worlds and pump with all of my hearts? to have to kill even one of my hearts to match up with you is simply not worth it to me’ and ‘i was born as sweet as that and if i am too sweet for your tastes then just clamp your mouth shut and spin on your heels. i can’t add sourness to my sap anymore just to fit onto a menu in a restaurant for wimps’ honestly yeah