Tag: box opener

sand guardian, welcome to chili’s, and they were roommates

is there anything you’d protect with your life?

[“please, is there anything i wouldn’t”]

several specific people, individually. a sufficiently large group of people generally. 

favourite restaurant?

dim sum place from last night; the seafood restaurant in sf where i had one of the most awkward dinners of my life but also really excellent crab.

if you could live with anyone, who would it be?

god has already asked me this question and i have answered. (this sentence is my concession to sentiment.) no, really, though, i have you and the boy and i will keep you! for a calendar year i shall keep you. then our faerie pact is up and you are free to leave the forest of the silver eye.

anyway certain of you are aware that i have had expansive ludicrous living-with-people dreamspirations for a Significant Time, and while both the intent and the particulars have changed dramatically i still on some level absolutely guiltily do, so let me add some more people:

M, my childhood (literally K thru 12) best friend; N, who is– not my childhood best friend (listen. shut up); my mom for a value of “live with” that is “directly next door to” (well, really you can imagine all of this subdivided into distinct-but-adjoining space until it almost starts to make some sense); and uh– well actually everyone else is either erstwhile or more neighbor than housemate or else, uh, too embarrassing even for this space, including some people who i know from the internet, oops

idionkisson replied to your post “all of the dreams i’ve had about my friends have also been dreams…”

ok i know this is not rly a Serious Post but i legit just got so excited abt this Concept, PLS write lots of poems abt this & send them all to me, pls & thank xoxo

michelle i want you to know that this prompted me to go back and reread every poem i’ve ever written about/based on a dream, all of which predate me having this revelation, and it turns out that they’ve literally all been About Physical Spaces in ways most of my poems are not and i am so thrilled to have made this discovery. & also this comment was such good inspo for me to write more, i have been needing a high-level prompt lately. i will send u them once they have been made!!

all of the dreams i’ve had about my friends have also been dreams about buildings and spaces and architecture, because my true destiny is always to be a person who treats relationships as spaces. actually, edit: all of the dreams i have are dreams about buildings, spaces, and architecture, and what’s more i think this is a sign of immense personal virtue

joculatory:

To can’t do. To overly over-you,

                    to te amo , to songs of wronged
                                    I think we & planting boxwood & snowdrop

                                                        for not our winter
                                                        children, nor sweet box
                                                        or winterberry.

– the opening lines of “I Guess We’ll Have to Be Secretly in Love with Each Other & Leave It at That” by Rosebud Ben-Oni,  which grows into something greater than this excerpt would indicate. There are horses.

 i do really love being able to see other LGBT+ people just like, living life? doing things, talking about their experiences, looking visibly gnc in a whole variety of ways, idk. i mean this in real life but also in terms of just like, seeing everyone i follow on tumblr talking about their lives/posting selfies/etc. i appreciate you all! i love being gay and nb in a community of other LGBT+ people. it makes my life appreciably better to know you all and see all of the ways that other people are doing their lives.

Bird-Understander

apoemaday:

by Craig Arnold

Of many reasons I love you here is one

the way you write me from the gate at the airport
so I can tell you everything will be alright

so you can tell me there is a bird
trapped in the terminal      all the people
ignoring it       because they do not know
what to do with it       except to leave it alone
until it scares itself to death

it makes you terribly terribly sad

You wish you could take the bird outside
and set it free or       (failing that)
call a bird-understander
to come help the bird

All you can do is notice the bird
and feel for the bird       and write
to tell me how language feels
impossibly useless

but you are wrong

You are a bird-understander
better than I could ever be
who make so many noises
and call them song

These are your own words
your way of noticing
and saying plainly
of not turning away
from hurt

you have offered them
to me       I am only
giving them back

if only I could show you
how very useless
they are not