You have my permission not to love me; I am a cathedral of deadbolts and I’d rather burn myself down than change the locks. — Rachel McKibbens, from “Letter From My Brain to My Heart,” Pink Elephants. (Cypher Books, December 1, 2009)
A child came up to me in the park and asked for a cigarette. Her eyes were startled cats, her voice, a chandelier. I don’t smoke, I said. She took a seat beside me on the bench, resting her head against my shoulder. Her hair smelled like an old dictionary cracked open after rain. I… Continue reading Rachel McKibbens
I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech. — Jeffrey McDaniel, from “The Jerk,” Forgiveness Parade. (Manic D Press, Inc.; First Edition edition, October… Continue reading Jeffrey McDaniel
We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost but tonight let us not become tragedies. We are not funeral homes with propane tanks in our windows, lookin’ like cemeteries. Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go. Let go. — Buddy Wakefield, from “We Are Emergencies,” Live… Continue reading Buddy Wakefield
When I meet you, in that moment, I am no longer a part of your future. I start quickly becoming part of your past. But in that instant, I get to share your present, and you, you get to share mine. And that is the ultimate present. — Sarah Kay, from “Hiroshima,” No Matter the… Continue reading Sarah Kay
My mouth is a fire escape. The words coming out don’t care that they are naked. There is something burning in there. — Andrea Gibson, from “I Sing The Body Electric, Especially When My Power’s Out,” The Madness Vase: By Andrea Gibson. (Write Bloody Publishing September 15, 2011)
Here is what I love about the brain: How it remembers. How it sews what soft it can into a blanket for the nights when I am cold with trouble. — Sean Patrick Mulroy, from “The Offering,” Wyvern Lit, Issue Six, Summer 2015
