He made it possible. He was formerly a fabulist.
He was faceless, but he was ugly, graceless
and he made everything disappear.
All by Drunk Monkeys
aligning
as fingers
deftly dance
on checkered
smooth plastic
disco stage
Maybe I can understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea ~ it's insane. Pure fuckin crazy. But god, it was one of the greatest cinematic surprises of my life & I drank it UP.
Adam’s countenance: beer cask-heavy
his eyes: glazed shallots
his smile: a split itself
When I told people I used the same treadmill as John Mayer, my celebrity experience received mixed reviews. Some folks were wowed, wanting to know everything. Who used the machine first? Did we exchange words? Fluids? Was his exercise program set at an incline? Did he have BO, and if so, how was it?
But while a label may not always be necessary, they are SO VALUABLE. Besides Quinni (Heartbreak High), Billy Cranston is the only character I've seen actually acknowledge his own autism & it feel real, & authentic, & relatable (unlike *hacking cough* The Good Doctor et al).
Now take away the need
for moisture and the deteriorating
qualities of autumn. The veins
and stems will release as well.
Take away the release. Take
away the seasons.
When Taylor Swift was at the gym in Japan
she watched the muscled back of a man
moving up and down a heavy machine
made by other heavy machines for men.
Some were surprised that the show, which never captured more than a one percent viewer share, lasted as long as it did. The Haworth twins looked nothing alike; then there was Joan Didion’s Esquire piece ravaging Carol Haworth’s parenting style and the Connecticut student who noticed the window in McKelvey’s (19th century) stable, home of Wesley McKelvey’s mare Firecloud, revealed the top of a Burger King sign.
We ate and made useless chat. The Best was bland that day. All I could taste was the vinegar. Katie had cut her hair short. Truthfully, she looked beautiful. I made the conscious decision not to look at her socks. After the sandwiches were eaten things got quiet.
of spontaneous human combustion,
of pictures with the Cherry Hill Mall Santa,
of a stapler after getting my wrist stuck to my teacher’s green bulletin board,
Bell's journey serves as a reminder that behind the public personas and controversies lie individuals with their own stories of pain, resilience, and growth. It calls us to cultivate a culture of compassion and understanding, acknowledging that healing and redemption are complex processes that require patience and support.
and on the tv
a drag queen
sharing her recipe
for sun tea
asks us if we want to
watch her take a break
and we take a break
Honeywell closed their Minnesota plant quietly
and the addition of warning stickers on album covers
would save the children along with D.A.R.E., Nancy
and Tipper directing the conversation, for some reason.
I read, I traveled, I, Lina, thief’s daughter, a discarded toy by the campfire
at night, my planets – burned by sparks,
burned by coincidences, in my eyelashes – stalagmites of ashes.
Because Phil Collins is for fools and old ladies.
Because the ocean’s too wide a body of water
for a commando to cross alone. Because gentlemen
never kiss and tell, and soldiers never share
their kill count. Because you teach the meaning
of words like ‘amorous’ and ‘varnish’ and ‘leave.’
Women multiply miracles, raise dough for loaves, reel in sleek fishes, French-manicure-cling to beloveds’ wishes. Nevermind they’re too broke, too busy, too blue cuz compassionate women put others first and I love that too.
every second we spend together he slips further away,
replaced by some incarnation I’ll understand only
when it is time to say goodbye/hello. It’s cruel
this constant leave-taking, I think
Was this how they partied in the South—campy
gay guys and their campier girlfriends—I longed
to chew the fat with them for hours. Skinny dip
in their Georgia moonlight after 25¢ beers.
The mystery of Black Moon Lilith repeats and repeats
into itself: It is an
empty space, It is what happens
when we die.