ginsbergian

Ocean Vuong

Joanna Brooks from The Book of Mormon Girl: Stories From an American Faith

Ricardo Valdez Valentine is 6LACK.

--- “Fragment For Ania’s Scythe”  Summer 2017

This may sound strange, but I can tell when it’s going to rain... Really! I’m feeling very odd of late. I’ve been acting very odd too, talking to myself, grinning and laughing for no reason. Something’s going on. My life seems to be coming together, taking some real direction. This just won’t do ... The times they are a changin.

[...] Everyone, they say, has a new pop punk fuck boy built like a yeti with the stick straight Veronica Lake bang Dating is hard bc gay men are a garbage fire Why do ppl say they “love food” like it’s a revelation A secret I’m such a food-aholic Oh, like literally every other living organism in existence? Junk breathes How dare ppl be born in the ‘90s I like tall guys bc I’m lookin for someone who can fend off the ppl who will kill us when we swap spit in the karaoke booth That time we hung out with our giddy newness at the Mexican restaurant by the  bookstore with the best reading series in the city and the glassy eyes zooming in on each other Seeing only the wonder, like canary yellow on a canary or when our sky wraps up in Earth’s shadow This is my yellow heart This is my gauzy two- people-gazing-across-the-night-into-each-other instrumental situation Who owns the attraction passing between bodies We say neurons “fire” because a frame of mind needs the border of poetry Something fuzzy buzzing Your face glows coastal, leaves me feelin fine as the powdery shoreline at low tide Dummy, all our lives we are the wavelengths of light who escape the negative space Urge toward sunset scattered roadways, morning haze, and the gusting forward of time Oh shut the fuck up Voices change How dare you tether me to lines I wrote in like 2009 Goin over yr Junky poems huh? Do you ever wish you cd just be always one self? “Whole” is a privilege and a pedestal [...] --- from Junk by Tommy Pico (@heyteebs)

“Everybody leaves If they get the chance And this, This is my chance.”

--- from “b-sides: geographies, eroticas” by Matthew A. Jonassaint

from “A poem for cock suckers” by John Weiners

“Body as tool, body as transport. I wanted to be shorn over and over and over.“

mary is an old woman without shoes. she doesn’t believe it. not when her belly starts to bubble and leave the print of a finger where no man touches. not when the snow in her hair melts away. not when the stranger she used to wait for appears dressed in lights at her kitchen table. she is an old woman and doesn’t believe it. when Something drops onto her toes one night she calls it a fox but she feeds it.