On Being In Bed With A Brand New Lover
I’ve abandoned vanity, since I became a body of threads, never quite made, since you rippled the apparent skin of me. I’m all texture. Silk rosette, billowing coral, tentative as a just baked cake. Sensations slide over my knitted blood. My mouth is a glass paperweight to keep our tastes in, like maraschino cherries and water from a zinc cup. This is not about a future with a...
It was a great summer. The folk-singer look was in, the young girls with the...– Popism: The Warhol ’60s.
Alessandra Rizzotti: I'd Like To Read All Day →
rizzottipotty: My grandmother wrote short stories. She read them into a tape recorder, sending me the tapes, wrapped up, like a fragile parcel. One was a story about Strawberry Shortcake, one was a story about her garden, one was a story about learning to love what was incomplete. My grandmother’s…
Nothing is provisional, when the summoned thought of you inspires certain ever-afters. I should cool down on the step outside. For there’s much to be learned from the precocious nature of baking, its generous swell dependent on correct measures of heat, ounces and sifts. I poise at the oven door. Perhaps we’re just correct. Or incorrectly stirred to sublime effect. Whatever; I’m stupid with...
Preface 13 (From Bad Bad by Chelsey Minnis)
When I write a poem it’s like looking through a knothole into a velvet fuckpad… And it is like buttery sweetbreads spilled down the front of your dress… It is like a gun held to the head of a poodle… If I want to write any poems I will write them! A poem that doesn’t have any intellectual filler in it… Like two blondes fighting on a roof…
what have you done for me lately?– Janet Jackson
Reminder about the songs currently in the charts
wherewolves: They mean how beautiful and near she is. Though now each asks no more than to rest an elbow on your consciousness as a tired lane swimmer pauses for breath at the end of the pool, then pushes away again, when they do it won’t be forever; they will catch you in some bar or bedroom and mean how beautiful and near she is. - - Tim Cockburn
Quote from an unpublished sequence by Roddy...
I love you as if still there were a teasing plenty, when, when teasing plenty is gone and that, that, beyond my stash of chance.
Old, aggressively flirtatious poem published in...
Warning I stole your magenta fedora while you span to The Snake. Legging it behind the booth I slipped My phone number is under a grosgrain ribbon that tightened pheasant feather to felt. I want you minted the same year I was born, us held in velvet clinch. I swear if you don’t call I’ll string your milk teeth together, bite them deep into the flesh of my...