Brian Holmes
The question is how you rearrange the stars above your head, to open up unexpected paths on the ground beneath your feet. — Brian Holmes, “Guattari’s Schizoanalytic Cartographies,” Continental Drift 2009/02/27
Category: Blog
Bob Taylor
1I can’t help but hatehaiku. They end abruptlyjust as they’re getting2going. See? I needanother just to finishthis simple thought, and3maybe it’s true thatall the love in the world couldfit in a matchbox4but who would want totry, and where, in that case, wouldone store their matches?— Rob Taylor, “Haikus 1-4,” The Other Side of Ourselves, Previously… Continue reading Bob Taylor
Devin Kelly
Every love poem, I think, is a poem of grace. Because you can spend years in silence not knowing how to say I love you. Because you can spend years knowing what you need but not asking for it. Because you can spend years lifting, only to realize that you spent years lifting the wrong… Continue reading Devin Kelly
Carol Anne Borges
… darkness is not everywhere – for here and there I find a few faces illuminated from within. Paper lanterns swaying among the dark trees. — Carol Anne Borges
S.L. Cato
Mental labels don’t define who I am, time and aging only gets me closer to those I love, will love, and have loved. — S.L. Cato, from “Hello May, Birthday month, musing on aging gracefully,” https://itsnotcrazytoday.com/2016/05/01/its-my-birthday-month-musing-on-aging-gracefully/ May 1, 2016
Karla A
Night breathed the hollow smoke of longing, — Karla A., “untitled“, July 2020
Mike McGee
Open Letter to Neil Armstrong Dear Neil Armstrong, I write this to you as she sleeps down the hall. I need answers I think only you might have. When you were a boy, and space was simple science fiction, when flying was merely a daydream between periods of History and Physics, when gifts of moon… Continue reading Mike McGee
Mary Kate Teske
I offer to youmy bones and my veins. The partsthat break and that spill. — Mary Kate Teske, “Haiku,” https://mkteske.tumblr.com/
James Joyce
Goodbye, my darling whom I am trying to degrade and deprave. How on God’s earth can you possibly love a thing like me? — James Joyce, from a letter to Nora Barnacle, https://adoxoblog.wordpress.com/. “Fμckbird and Jim: James Joyce’s letters to Nora Barnacle.” February 25, 2011.
Uche Nduka
somewhere behind the napes, armorial backbone. ripeness that goes on and on. a kayak, waist-deep. in blood is where the acorn grows. which means the world is ravenous. i want to eat my cake and have it. lover, am i not your invention? — Uche Nduka, “Somewhere Behind the Napes,” Overpassbooks January 15, 2013
The Vale of Soul-Making 