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@onepoetscorner
...They say the sky is blue but I know it's black seen through too much distance.
Ocean Vuong

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This is how I came into this world, into this world of believing: an ancient spirit striving to remember the shape of eternity at the kitchen table, in a house where ancestors knew our names and stepped through the walls, my dreams filled with light, my head consecrated with oil, every Sunday morning white bread and tap water for sacrament, every Sunday evening the taste of a ripe glazed strawberry saying āgratefulā on my tongue.
Joanna Brooks from The Book of Mormon Girl: Stories From an American Faith
Ricardo Valdez Valentine is 6LACK.

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--- āFragment For Aniaās ScytheāĀ Summer 2017
This may sound strange, but I can tell when itās going to rain... Really! Iām feeling very odd of late. Iāve been acting very odd too, talking to myself, grinning and laughing for no reason. Somethingās going on. My life seems to be coming together, taking some real direction. This just wonāt do ... The times they are a changin.
fromĀ āJunkā
[...] 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 theyĀ ālove foodā like itās a revelation A secret Iām such a food-aholicĀ Oh, like literally every other living organism in existence? Junk breathes How dare ppl be born in theĀ ā90s I like tall guys bc Iām 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 theĀ 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 Earthās 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 neuronsĀ āfireā 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?Ā āWholeā is a privilege and a pedestal [...] --- from Junk by Tommy Pico (@heyteebs)
āEverybody leaves If they get the chance And this, This is my chance.ā

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Oscar Wilde to Walt Whitman, 1 March 1882
āBefore I leave America I must see you againāthere is no one in this wide great world of America whom I love and honour so much.ā
Once God was like Dirk Caber.
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āif iām gonna piss first iām gonna jack off first: today, a beefy mutt made of Christoph Waltzās youth...ā
--- fromĀ āb-sides: geographies, eroticasā by Matthew A. Jonassaint
It is all here between the powdered legs & painted eyes of the fairy friends who do not fail us Ā Ā in our hour of Ā Ā Ā despair. Take not away from me the small fires I burn in the memory of love.
fromĀ āA poem for cock suckersā by John Weiners

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topographies I & II
āBody as tool, body as transport. I wanted to be shorn over and over and over.ā
āmy dream about the second comingā by Lucille Clifton
mary is an old woman without shoes. she doesnāt 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 doesnāt believe it. when Something drops onto her toes one night she calls it a fox but she feeds it.