seen from Bolivia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Tunisia
seen from Philippines
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Iraq
seen from Canada
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Yemen
seen from China
Reading #TaylorMali’s new book this afternoon & thinking of my own father, who didn’t live long enough to see his now-twelve-year-old grandson but somehow lives on in my son’s stubborn individuality, his quiet self-reflection, and the beautiful art and music he creates. (at Tift County, Georgia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bv91CeJHuA5glbS1K_lUq9PYPvVYPtl-WNFPo80/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=18y1eg2ik1j1x
Doing some soulful reading 📖 #whatteachersmake #taylormali #goodforthesoul
Two years ago I met my favorite poet and literature enthusiast. He was inspiration through my very short teaching career. Also I'm like 30 pounds less than then so that's cool.
Tim Seibles performs "Slow Dance" #Poetry #SpokenWord http://fucmedia.com/tim-seibles-performs-slow-dance-poetry-spokenword/
Will Evans performs "North Courts" #Poetry #SpokenWord http://fucmedia.com/will-evans-performs-north-courts-poetry-spokenword/
April Ranger performs "Human vs Nature" #Poetry #SpokenWord http://fucmedia.com/april-ranger-performs-human-vs-nature-poetry-spokenword/
Changing your mind is one of the best ways of finding out whether or not you still have one. #TaylorMali
Simple Geography
(in response to “Shut Up and You Know I Love You” by Taylor Mali)
I am from burned
on bracelets and stretched
thin summer days, sweating
until blood runs
instead of salt water. From dirt
and scraped knees and books, broken
pencils, and playground
games. I am from growing
up too soon, sprouting seeds without
roots, without knowing what
that means. From when foreign
fingers slipped in: recoil; recoil
still when they are familiar. I am from closed
legs and lips and skirts that lay just so, heels
and braids tucked back
where they belong. I am from secret
fists and red-eyed rage, from spit
and shout and scream. From closed
doors, closets and picked over
scabs, daydreams running
into nightmares running
into days running on. I am from masks,
music notes, and laughter, dimples dodging
in and out. From words not working
anymore. From dried up, spilled out
making red wine stains on white carpet.
I am from give until nothing is left. From long
letters that explain little, but like
a cartographer’s trailing eyes, I am going to
remember; I am from forget.
