Do not look for my heart any more; the beasts have eaten it.
This is my take-away summation to jayarrarr after reading “Tourist” by Charles Stross as published in Science Fiction: The Best of 2002, Silverberg & Haber [Editors]. I’m not entirely sure if this is a win or a loss for the author, but it’s definitely a level up for cats the world ‘round.
Gage Wallace - “How We Have Learned To Love”
"This is how we have learned to love. Texting each other pictures of our bodies. When we share a bed, we only know how to touch ourselves."
No wonder this guy won the Valentine’s Day tournament.
purplemonkeysexgod69 replied to your video post: “Everybody got their own course full of obstacles Don’t let your heart…”:
Everybody got their own course full of obstacles
Don’t let your heart grow cold like a popsicle
— Kanye West, Atmosphere
"This is a tool for poets; the things it generates are devoid of intent but can serve as a jumping off point for a human being writing an actual poem with meaning." — secondepoch
Just send an SMS message to (224) 836-7538.
(your individual carrier texting charges applicable)
Tumblr Tuesday: Poetry Month
Academy of American Poets
Eighty years old and 9,000 strong, these are the people that brought you National Poetry Month. April would be useless without them.
Structure and Style
Amazing poetry, and an amazing place to discuss and critique poetry. Rebecca Hazelwood and Savannah Sipple are your hosts.
Fresh work from poet Scherezade Siobhan, who has a Pushcart Prize nomination and a name that is poetry itself.
GIF via Poetry Bomb
i wonder what the stars
think when we dive into
icy depths, drink into the
oblivion, and obliterate
ourselves with the dark;
have we failed? can we
fast forward the eight
minutes to pass forth
the light needed to guide
them from the corners
of their mind? because
i often wonder, too, if we
are the failures, tossing
away their beauty in
favorance of something
that holds no image, just
a particular numbness.
You do not explain your wish
to tend to their mess. You smile
at broken glass and loose insulation,
approaching with whispering eyes.
You become patience encapsulated
in fascination. You, shadow casting
shadows draping and drowning light
with a measured angle. You lie,
scratching ravenously through
layers laughing at your expense.
You wonder who, if anyone, notices
that you’ve bled. You have grown.
Each shard and strand becomes you,
buries your every sensation felt. Soon,
all that is left is your thick skin — and
the only pain you know is feigned.
You do not explain your wish.
This is the first copy of the first-ever print edition of A Literation right here. How do I know I have the first copy? Easy: this is the one and only proof copy. Yes, we pushed the print edition out before first reviewing the proof. We are daring and reckless. Well, Matt is anyway.
I’m pleased to report the print is immaculate, except that all pages except these two are upside down.*
*This is a lie. It’s gorgeous. All except the glaring typo on page 11.**
**I’m kidding. There’s no typo on page 11, glaring or otherwise. I’m just taking the opportunity to make Matt freak out coz I’m an asshole like that.
Buy your own here, presently discounted 15%.