hahaha can u believe im doing a thing for a poetry class that involves a “trash diary”, i just made fucking plastic bag yarn like i’m a first year saic student trying to make a statement about littering and feminist fiber art or something

what resembles the grave but isn’t

anneboyer:

Always falling into a hole, then saying “ok, this is not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of the hole which is not the grave, falling into a hole again, saying “ok, this is also not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of that hole, falling into another one; sometimes falling into a hole within a hole, or many holes within holes, getting out of them one after the other, then falling again, saying “this is not your grave, get out of the hole”; sometimes being pushed, saying “you can not push me into this hole, it is not my grave,” and getting out defiantly, then falling into a hole again without any pushing; sometimes falling into a set of holes whose structures are predictable, ideological, and long dug, often falling into this set of structural and impersonal holes; sometimes falling into holes with other people, with other people, saying “this is not our mass grave, get out of this hole,” all together getting out of the hole together, hands and legs and arms and human ladders of each other to get out of the hole that is not the mass grave but that will only be gotten out of together; sometimes the willful-falling into a hole which is not the grave because it is easier than not falling into a hole really, but then once in it, realizing it is not the grave, getting out of the hole eventually;  sometimes falling into a hole and languishing there for days, weeks, months, years, because while not the grave very difficult, still, to climb out of and you know after this hole there’s just another and another; sometimes surveying the landscape of holes and wishing for a high quality final hole; sometimes thinking of who has fallen into holes which are not graves but might be better if they were; sometimes too ardently contemplating  the final hole while trying to avoid the provisional ones; sometimes dutifully falling and getting out, with perfect fortitude, saying “look at the skill and spirit with which I rise from that which resembles the grave but isn’t!“ 

Several Altitudes of Not Talking

sashayed:

You are part of other people but not
like them. You live in a little wooden box
and wake up with your face
in your palm and some sunlight.
Which is a sign of resignation but not
for you. Which is part of what I meant
by trying to effect change
in myself and also talking. By describing
to you that before a city can become
spectacular its buildings must put on
an iron gown. And then some workers
climb all around it. And it is like having
no teeth because you are waiting
for better teeth. I tell you I am very attached
to my old teeth. In a game called all of this
is hypothetical I did not once slide
my teeth across the table. I do not
even remember what you offered
as the hypothetical exchange for a life
where I only drink soup. There were
some girls on their bikes
and wind. There were some people
reuniting after many years apart or just
a day. You were not like everyone else
making demands with wild
gesticulations. I thought about maybe
trying to sharpen my knowledge
of jokes. I thought about really
needing a hug. A very important car
with sirens rumbled by and sounded
exactly right.

Wendy Xu
from
You Are Not Dead, 2013

tphd:

MY FAVORITE PERIOD IN EARTH’S HISTORY

My favorite period in Earth’s history

is every moment you’ve ever smiled at me haha

god, i’m only kidding

my favorite period in Earth’s history is the first time it rained

(i hate all the rest of the periods)

the first time it rained on planet earth with actual, regular water

i mean

i hate the times it rained irregular things from the sky (ex. lava) i only love the regular rain

the first time it did the regular rain, it lasted for 13 years and everyone alive learned to love it

also it rained not in one place or two places

but everywhere at once

just clean, new water

all over

which was nice

my favorite period in Earth’s history began the exact moment i was born and ends the precise

moment when my body is fed to dogs

haha, i’m only kidding again dogs would never eat me

they respect me too much

my favorite period in Earth’s history began

a long time ago and lasted several hundred years

which was a short while

all considered

during this period there was

relative calm no mountains had come

from inside the earth to visit forever

everything was plains and fields

and flowers and the newest, freshest scents

on the wind

like memories no one had had yet

but we were all excited to try

and all the animals that exist now, existed then

but were small

small enough to hold inside my mouth

only two inches big

maybe three, MAX

a tiny horse might be three inches big

which was huge

at the time

and explains how they got

so full of themselves

but who can blame them

really

just picture it in your head:

a troop of tiny horses, cascading across the plains

it’s fantastic

and all the bugs were even tinier

and smiling even tinier bug­smiles

which is great

if you ask me

and all the humans got eaten all the time

or got lost in the grass

or trampled

which i’m also comfortable with

aeide-thea:

In the Beginning God Said Light

and there was light.
Now God says, Give them a little theatrical lighting

and they’re happy,
and we are. So many of us

dressing each morning, testing
endless combinations, becoming in our mirrors

more ourselves, imagining,
in an entrance, the ecstatic

weight of human eyes.
Now that the sun is sheering

toward us, what is left
but to let it close in

for our close-up? Let us really feel
how good it feels

to be still in it, making
every kind of self that can be

looked at. God, did you make us
to be your bright accomplices?

God, here are our shining spines.
Let there be no more dreams of being

more than a beginning.
Let it be

that to be is to be
backlit, and then to be only that light.

—Mary Szybist

tphd:

IS IT A CRIME TO HOLLOW OUT THE MOON AND LIVE IN IT

YES

IS IT A CRIME TO HOLLOW OUT THE MOON AND LIVE IN IT WITH ALL THE GOLD I’VE STOLEN FROM EARTH

YES

IS IT A CRIME TO HOLLOW OUT THE MOON AND LIVE IN IT WITH ALL THE GOLD I’VE STOLEN FROM EARTH AND ALSO SHOOT MISSILES BACK AT THE PLANET AT RANDOM, CAPRICIOUS INTERVALS

YES

IS IT A CRIME TO INVENT A BICYCLE AS BIG AS THE SUN

YES

IS IT A CRIME TO SEND MY DOG TO COLLEGE

NO

IS IT A CRIME TO EMOTIONALLY PRESSURE MY DOG INTO RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT

YES

IS IT A CRIME TO EMOTIONALLY PRESSURE MY DOG (AFTER HE WINS THE ELECTION) INTO MAKING THINGS I DISLIKE ILLEGAL, SUCH AS WIND

YES