August 2012
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“In 2012, today, I publish a piece of non-fiction at a rather popular website. At...”
– Jimmy Chen, Internet Like Story
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Joan Of Arc To The $2,000-An-Hour Woman
by Marty McConnell
at least your pimp has a name, a neck you could put your two good hands around. he loves you like all men love what they sell, what comes back in gold. make no mistake, my God was a man: men with their mouths at the entrance to the cave, whispering, men dripping hallucinogens into the milk, men insisting lead us, lead us, have this horse this sword this sentence this pyre. men...
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Scaffolding
by Seamus Heaney
Masons, when they start upon a building, Are careful to test out the scaffolding;
Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points, Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
And yet all this comes down when the job’s done Showing off the walls of sure and solid stone,
So if, my dear,there sometimes seem to be Old bridges breaking between you and me
Never fear....
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I Just Drank Coffee For The First Time →
by Robert Wohner
I am 23. I have pulled all-nighters, worked ridiculous shifts and enjoyed pie. All in all, I’ve spent 23 years living a very normal life. Except, I did so without the company of coffee.
On March 29, 2012, for no profound or noteworthy reason, I tried it. My first cup was from Starbucks. Now, this was not my first time at Starbucks. Usually, when accompanying a friend at one of...
“Some of my favorite experiences of art are when I am there but my attention has...”
– Sheila Heti
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How To Kill Your Creativity
by Mila Jaroneic
Quiet your own voice. Don’t do or say anything even mildly transgressive for fear of looking, sounding, or feeling ridiculous. Don’t make any definitive statements; keep your sketches and bad poetry confined to a journal and shake your head vehemently if someone asks to see. Suppress your good ideas because what, they wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Second guess yourself at...
“I am astonished in my teaching to find how many poets are nearly blind to the...”
– Linda Gregg, from “The Art of Finding”
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counting-stars-on-the-ceiling: oh gosh
counting-stars-on-the-ceiling: a text from a friend came in
counting-stars-on-the-ceiling: it said 'we had pizza the last 3 nigga'
counting-stars-on-the-ceiling: so I replied 'wtf dont ever call me nigga no one calls me that i draw the line there'
counting-stars-on-the-ceiling: (I get a txt back saying) 'nights' and 'auto-correct'
colporteur: oh my god
counting-stars-on-the-ceiling: awkward auto correct moment
'10 Honest Thoughts On Being Loved By A Skinny...
sweetdeltablues:
(I had to transcribe this poem, because it became an immediate favorite the second that I heard it. I am over 70 pounds heavier than my boyfriend, and I have thought, felt and said all of these things before. But he is perfect, and we are perfect together.)
10 HONEST THOUGHTS ON BEING LOVED BY A SKINNY BOY Rachel Wiley
1. I say, ‘I am fat.’ He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’ I...
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Late Night At The Library
by Traci Brimhall
You recite the bones of the body as though it were a poem. Patella, femur, coccyx, your eyes closed, head weaving slightly as you travel up the body. Before you can arrive at the cranial borders, I put down Conrad and lean against you. You ask what I’ve been reading, and I tell you it’s the death of geographical mystery, when the last white patches of the atlas were shaded in...
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This Is Just A Phase →
by Stephanie Georgopulos
Everyone in my family expected that I’d write for a living when I got older, but at age eight I learned that writers are poor and decided maybe being a famous singer was more appealing. I began to listen to a lot of Brandy; and I wrote songs or poems, depending on who you ask; and I sang in talent shows — usually placing third, never placing first. When I reached middle...
“The more you document your own life, the more you check in, you tweet, the more...”
– Jonathan Harris
“I envy you.
Every moment, you can leave me.
I cannot leave myself.”
– Anna Świrszczyńska
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Hills Like White Elephants - Ernest Hemingway
The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a...
“I’d decided the campus was just a place to hide. The whole college scene was...”
– Charles Bukowski
“Dear Neil Armstrong,
I write this to you as she sleeps down the hall.
I need...”
– Mike McGee
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“He is exactly
the poem
I wanted to write.”
– Mary Oliver, White Heron Rises Over Blackwater
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I have to head back to work to go through a CPR course update. Rather than a beneficial refreshment for my knowledge, it makes me depressed to realise yearly that I am incapable of saving a child. I know the basic instructions and procedures, but I would not be comfortable to do so in the situation. A lot of people say you would act instinctively, and that may be so, but I feel that instinctively...
“I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my...”
– I don’t want to be a feminist anymore | Feministing
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“Yesterday, blue tasted like licorice.
Even wind chimes caused dizziness;
an...”
– “The Synaesthete’s Love Poem,” Kristy Bowen
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Party Balloon
by Stevie Bernstein
Like a dirty little sob, I found a balloon buried in the yard. It was the saddest thing I ever found, sadder than if it had once been alive, a pet or a grandmother. Left over from a party, I guess. And I don’t like parties. But they’re fun I guess.
And when they’re over it’s worse than when they begin, and when they’re forgotten it’s horrible, more absolute than a corpse. And...
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When I Called My Father On Father's Day →
by Nico Lang
I wasn’t sure if I should. I debated not doing it. I thought that because we haven’t talked in six months, he wouldn’t notice if we didn’t talk for another day or for six more months. I didn’t know if he expected me to or even if he wanted me to call. I wasn’t going to call. I told myself I wouldn’t call. But then it’s Fathers’ Day and I can’t help but call.
So, I dial my...
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“Taking care of yourself will be the most difficult job. Harder than your first...”
– Ryan O’Connell, Things I Wish People Told Me When I Entered My 20’s
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How To Miss Another City →
by Chelsea Fagan
Stay up late one night scrolling through pictures of your time back there, looking at each one for five, ten minutes at a time, trying as hard as you possibly can to remember every last detail. Feel your whole body ache as you think of the way the food smelled in the busy streets, the way the wind blew just enough to kiss the hem of your shirt, the way the people around you...
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“We are caught between the desire to have a job that puts you in a higher social...”
– Chelsea Fagan, What It Means To Be Young
repeating the word girl
writing a poem about the girl should never be better than the girl than being with the girl
don’t write the poem about the girl unless you’d really rather be with the girl
By m loncar
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How Things End →
by Chelsea Fagan
I often find myself, on the opening days of a much-anticipated vacation or adventure, preoccupied with the thought that it is going to end soon. Even at the beginning of, say, a two-week period — generally regarded as a “long time” when it comes to doing fun things — I cannot shake the feeling that, though I have all this time ahead of me, I will soon be packing up to go.
I...
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Sunny day, highway.
wedontgopastpage17onthisblog:
Dear friend, I’m not going to face that part for now,
instead blocking it out of my mind is the doctors orders.
And
I trust that guy, he drives a modest car and actually gives a fuck.
Instead, I am going to get hung up on me, fall in love with myself
and
my own company
and
all the nifty things I can do with my
fingers
hands
mind
tongue
while waiting for...
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