and say, sit here. eat. you will love again

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Tue, 21 May 2013 20:52:58 -0400

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Tue, 21 May 2013 20:51:15 -0400

Fever 103° by Sylvia Plath

Tue, 21 May 2013 11:22:36 -0400

Pure? What does it mean?
The tongues of hell
Are dull, dull as the triple

Tongues of dull, fat Cerberus
Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
Of licking clean

The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
The tinder cries.
The indelible smell

Of a snuffed candle!
Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora’s scarves, I’m in a fright

One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel,
Such yellow sullen smokes
Make their own element. They will not rise,

But trundle round the globe
Choking the aged and the meek,
The weak

Hothouse bred baby in its crib,
The ghastly orchid
Hanging its hanging garden in the air,

Devilish leopard!
Radiation turned it white
And killed it in an hour.

Greasing the bodies of adulterers
Like Hiroshima ash and eating in.
The sin. The sin.

Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
The sheets grow heavy as a lecher’s kiss.

Three days. Three nights.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.

I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern—

My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.

Does not my heat astound you! And my light!
All by myself I am a huge camellia
Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.

I think I am going up,
I think I may rise—
The beads of hot metal fly, and I love, I

Am a pure acetylene
Virgin
Attended by roses,

By kisses, by cherubim,
By whatever these pink things mean!
Not you, nor him

Nor him, nor him
(My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats)—
To Paradise.

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Sun, 19 May 2013 11:30:49 -0400

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Sun, 19 May 2013 11:13:11 -0400

lily-cats: but a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she...

Thu, 16 May 2013 15:33:45 -0400

lily-cats:

but a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more (by the girl who tamed the tiger)

"i closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways"

Wed, 15 May 2013 16:40:42 -0400

“i closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways”

Variation On the Word Sleep by Margaret Atwood

Wed, 15 May 2013 14:37:17 -0400

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

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Fri, 10 May 2013 22:19:12 -0400

animal, vegetable, mineral by marty mcconnell

Fri, 10 May 2013 17:12:34 -0400

last night I felt a salt sorrow rise
in my body, in my mouth, and thought,
having a child will not fix this. and,
I may always be alone. sugar only made

my heart shiver, and the bath
had hands like drowning. sleep
kept dashing away from me on fast
rat feet and when it did come, was

fitful, three men, triplets, in suits,
leading me and a half dozen colleagues
to a house in the woods, me complaining

the whole time about poison ivy
and the walk. when we arrived
the one brother took me to a room
where I knew he meant to kill me

as the others would the others and this,
my love, my hypothetical bundle
of multiplying cells, is how I know
I’m ready for you. I took the buck knife

from my purse and slit his shocking
throat. then I went outside
and took care of the others. someday

I may have to answer to you
as to how I chose your particular
father. but never, my love,
who your mother is. never this.

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Thu, 09 May 2013 16:42:05 -0400

you will hear thunder by anna akhmatova

Thu, 09 May 2013 16:10:24 -0400

You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.

honeysuckle

Thu, 09 May 2013 15:47:48 -0400

bees, my
skin smells
of sun, the
insides of
roses. I want

to eat that
light. Every
thing that
grows does.

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Thu, 09 May 2013 12:28:35 -0400

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Thu, 09 May 2013 11:28:24 -0400

Audio

Wed, 08 May 2013 14:34:21 -0400

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Wed, 08 May 2013 14:15:38 -0400

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Wed, 08 May 2013 14:15:26 -0400

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Wed, 08 May 2013 14:08:44 -0400

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Wed, 08 May 2013 14:06:55 -0400