revive the feeling of doing something new Junk has to be the
poem of our time Pointless accumulation Clinging to a million
denials Why do you need an assault rifle? What if radioactive
bears Buying in bulk Afraid of forgetting that night in 2007
excerpt from Junk by Tommy Pico 2018
A timely poem. From Steven Willis's book, A Peculiar People: bookshop.org/a/862/978163...
#poem #poetry #stevenwillis #books
everything in my mouth leaves a tinny taste behind & i clean my tongue with my toothbrush, so far back it leaves me gagging & i only want coffee, bananas, cigarettes & you look like you’ve lost weight! & my teeth feel fragile & my stretch marks are rivers, deep and wide for drowning
by M.B. Shomali
dreamed you were here, cloaked
in a quiet face that looked
nothing like sadness
indigo medicine by Jillian Christmas 2020
But for now, we
are alive at the end of the world,
shell-shocked by headlines and alarm
clocks, burning through what little love
we have left. With time, the white boys
with guns will become wounds we won’t
quite remember enduring.
excerpt Alive at the End of the World by Saeed Jones 2022
2025 is the year I will fall in love with poetry.
how we feel matters. meaning: it creates matter. it
assumes form. pain has the potential to change the very
physicality of the brain. culture, society, media, language,
tradition. they are physical processes. biological, even.
excerpt from Anatomy Lesson by ALOK, 2021
"how do I write back against the structures that have produced me" ❤️ thanks for talking about your work!
❤️🔥🌹🐞
A door just opened on a street—
I, lost, was passing by—
An instant’s width of warmth disclosed,
And wealth, and company.
The door as sudden shut, and I,
I, lost, was passing by,—
Lost doubly, but by contrast most,
Enlightening misery.
Emily Dickinson, 1896
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
excerpt from One Art by Elizabeth Bishop 1976
and you can take any bean
[Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?]
excerpt from A Supermarket in California by Allen Ginsberg (1955)
lost for words tonite
only despair
blind rage
wish I cud
eat the rich
you could count on me
over eating
with gusto
#poetry
