Act Reckless/Think Before Speaking: The Index Card... →
oddballsdontbounce: mister, which came first, man or his shadow? this is a terrifying salesman of a world, the way it tells our boys that, for the right price, they can survive their own deaths. what i meant to ask was, how much did it cost? all those bodies, i mean- sorry, i meant those houses, each one a…
Poetry Slam: You're Doing It Wrong →
Interesting essay by Scott Woods on what he sees as the problems with slam these days. I don’t agree with a good amount of it, but it articulates some good points. Check it out. alealealea: this is really important, i think, and articulates well some of the reasons i’ve been feeling weird about slam / decided not to go out for the cupsi team / etc
This quiver in my lip, that’s just where I keep my arrows– Dessa (via oddballsdontbounce)
audiblemoonshine: Well, this is the best thing ive seen in a while.
after Cecil Otter He could hop the next train out. Sit in the railyards and listen to the show on an old tin transistor. Or he could stay. Whittle the spotlight into a crescent moon and measure it like a carpenter. He drifts around the edges like a man who could steal away into the oil towns and leave his shadow on stage as an understudy. But he stays. Holding candle to each face and reading...
but there is no polish on the table tonight expect rough spots then when I show...– Buddy Wakefield
About three years ago, during National Poetry Month, my son, who was 6 at the...– Willie Perdomo
El Silvero: Wu. →
There can never be enough poems written about this girl. Eric Silver is the man for writing this one. oddballsdontbounce: elsilvero: My friend Safia names all of her possessions. Her laptop is Grace Jones, All her lipsticks are Esmeralda. Michalengelo is her flask covered in painted Washington DC cherry blossoms. All of her stuff exists on the sliding scale of rapper pseudonyms. The members...
guess who's going to go see Doomtree on the 16th?
…and this guy! oddballsdontbounce: this guy :)
cavecanemoffsiteawp: Fear of Being Ignored by JAMAAL MAY I used to bury plum pits between houses, buried bits of wire there too, used to bury matches, but nothing ever burned and nothing ever thrived, so I set fire to a mattress, disassembled a stereo, attacked flies with a water pistol, drowned ants in perfume. I pierced my eyebrow, inserted a steel bar, traded that for a scar in a...
When Ecstasy is Inconvenient
Feign a great calm; all gay transport soon ends. Chant: who knows— flight's end or flight's beginning for the resting gull? Heart, be still. Say there is money but it rusted; say the time of moon is not right for escape. It's the color in the lower sky too broadly suffused, or the wind in my tie. Know amazedly how often one takes his madness into his own hands and keeps it. - Lorine Niedecker