[0reliia-deactivated20220729]

RP

[distantvoices]

Joan Smalls By Justin French For Interview Germany Fall 2019

[rerechce]

[coloredshadow]

Jung hur | untitled

[flaneuresse]

@WeHeartIt /entry/255004317

[alecsgrg]

[15x20]

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[myexcavation]

She asks the pendulum

And my rage unfurls, “No.”

Darkening my soul

In Bed with him

I don’t need to read my poetry publish my poetry

Except to feel my beauty/pain of my pain/beauty again

Globes - Phil

I drive by his house again

It’s a good thing I checked Instagram while I was driving aimlessly so I could see where you would be

That there would be a poetry reading 7 miles away

So I could take my mind off you

Black soul

Randomly assorted words

[myexcavation]

I could stare at you

like a Pollock or a Van Gogh or a Klimt or a Matisse

in the 412 gallery on 53rd street. 

You’re put together, with such grace and such thought,

by none but an artist’s work. 

By your own hand, you’d be sticky yet, hadn’t figured out how to dry the paint;

a broken sculpture, hadn’t stuck the pieces together quite right. 

And yet, because you are sculpted by another, Higher --

Powerful, you shine, 

Speak Truths. 

Your evil side shadowed by all wonderful hues --

Golden skin, reddening cheeks, caramel dripping from your eyes.   

Your body, hard as a rock, is enough to make a woman shake. 

[mauveflwrs]

Wassily Kandinsky - Ohne titel (1916)

[myexcavation]

For we have been socialized to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definition, and while we wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us.

Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: “Transformation of Silence”

[myexcavation]

For those of us who write... it is necessary to teach by living and speaking those truths which we believe and know beyond understanding. Because in this way alone we can survive, by taking part in a process of life that is creative and continuing, that is growth.

Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: “Transformation of Silence”

[myexcavation]

Because the machine will try to grind you into dust anyway, whether or not we speak. We can sit in our corners mute forever while our sisters and our selves are wasted, while our children are distorted and destroyed, while our earth is poisoned; we can sit in our safe corners mute as bottles, and we will still be no less afraid.

Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: “Transformation of Silence”

[myexcavation]

Tell them about how you're never really a whole person if you remain silent, because there's always that one little piece inside you that wants to be spoken out, and if you keep ignoring it, it gets madder and madder and hotter and hotter, and if you don't speak it out one day it will just up and punch you in the mouth from the inside.

Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider essay: “Transformation of Silence” 

[myexcavation]

[myexcavation]

Your keys

play the suspension strings of the bridge off Chambers and Park Row. 

You dance the city’s skyscrapers with your fingers, 

and sing its vibrations. 

Dreams hold you in a cloud above the rest of us, 

and you ache from the pulling in both directions - 

your heart up this way, your body down that. 

The frequencies, they rattle in a multi-rhythm in your chest.

In sleep your body reminds itself of its purpose: 

to take us to the place your soul lives / Bring it to us. 

It is hard to wake from this. 

The only pathway in either direction is your song. 

Finish it. 

And remember that time 

doesn’t exist in the cloud-world.

We’re young forever like the pact we made at 18. 

Music rules our bones and pulses our blood. 

Refine it. 

Live and breathe your imagined things into life. 

Bring new.

Make the world new.