i have a soft secret wish that conspires against me in the sleepy hours of late afternoon when my big dog sighs into my shoulder and nuzzles under my arm while we both procrastinate his walk a little longer just until we are done being on the couch together, curled up
i need to believe that if he could choose, he would stay looped indelicately, his legs a cascade in the air rolling his back on the only floor i can afford him instead of the romantic impossible wild
there are moments where his ears perk up at a rabbit and he watches their white tail tuck into a bush, like a wink. i don't know what dogs dream about but i hope to god
if he is dreaming about being a wolf he is not disappointed when he wakes up to blunted teeth
i’m printing this out and i’m putting it on the mirror so i can confront myself with it
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
we hunt the mighty pasta BEAST
and breadsticks are its BONES
ALFREDO FLOWS inside its veins
its organs are CALZONES
fireflies honestly make me cry a little. out of gratitude and wonder. thank goodness we live in a world with bioluminescence. thank goodness we live in a world where it can fly.
there's a philosophical message in there somewhere but I'm too hungry and sweaty to think of it
Based on a conversation with @perfectpossumprincess and @d-d-disgusting about a mad little mantidfly they found
if you don't do anything else today,
Please have a moment of silence for the people who were killed instead of freed when news of emancipation finally reached the furthest corners of the american south.
have another moment for the ledgers, catalogs, and records that were burned and the homes that were destroyed to hide the presence of very much alive and still enslaved people on dozens of plantations and homesteads across the south for decades after emancipation.
and have a third moment for those who were hunted and killed while fleeing the south to find safety across the border, overseas, in the north and to the west.
black people. light a candle, write a note to those who have passed telling them what you have achieved in spite of the racist and intolerant conditions of this world, feel the warmth of the flame under your hand, say a prayer of rememberance if you are religious, place the note under the candle, and then blow it out.
if you have children, sit them down and tell them anything you know about the life of oldest black person you've ever met. it doesn't have to be your own family. tell them what you know about what life was like for us in the days, years, decades after emancipation. if you don't know much, look it up and learn about it together.
white people CAN interact with this post. share it, spread it.
from the Lavender and Red Union, a group of communists who wrote this in 1975.
"GAY LIBERATION IS IMPOSSIBLE WITHOUT SOCIALIST REVOLUTION. SOCIALISM IS INCOMPLETE WITHOUT GAY LIBERATION."
😥Please watch the video until the end Look what happens to us We don't know what comfort is We are tired of this situation. Every day we are in constant danger Please help us and stand with us Please share this video with your friends We have the right to live like other children in the world in a healthy environment, away from fear, killing and hunger Donation link 👇🇵🇸
Please share the post to save my family🇵🇸
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dandelions are magic. literally tiny suns in the grass that turn into the moon and then the stars when you blow on them. fucking insane.
writers and artists will go "this isn't good enough." my brother in christ, you're creating something new out of nothing and expressing yourself creatively. your productivity and unrealistic standards of perfection do not define you or the worth of your art. you're doing great.
One day you think: I want to die. And then you think, very quietly, actually I want a coffee. I want a nap. A sandwich. A book. And I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friends, I want to sit in the sun. I want a cleaner room, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else, I want to live.
make bad art or you will always feel bad about your art. Make bad art until you find joy in the crooked lines and the off colours. Make bad art because art is about expression and artwork is never ugly because it was made by someone who has lived a life no one else will ever live. Make bad art and find love through ugly. Make bad art so you make art at all. Make bad art.
over and over, by me
i was having thoughts so i made a poem about them
From Codi Barbini's chapbook, It's Always This Beautiful, I Just Can't Always See It, available from Bottlecap Press!
if you live in the imperial core, you profit directly from the genocide in gaza. yes, even if you are poor. centuries of our comfort and commodities have been bought with the displacement of populations, the manufacture and sale of arms, and the mutual wealth reinforcement of proxies like isr ael. the literal least we can do is offset a little of our privilege by throwing people a few bucks for food and water.
"Impossibly Precious, Terribly Small" a mixed media poetry zine I'm working on about how time is passing and there's no going back.
From amelia nason's chapbook, poems i shouldn't have written, available from Bottlecap Press!
“and the universe said…”
writing, music, drawing, cooking, painting, sculpting. creating. art of every form is beautiful, don’t you think? is it not worth appreciating, the work, the passion the love, of something someone made, created. it is quite irreplaceable. and once you start appreciating its different ways, the world becomes a lot more vibrant, i think
which one of u was going to tell me that tea tastes different if u put it in hot water?
Poetry? More like CROWETRY!
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