are you in love with someone in your family ? sounds like it in your writings

As much as I’d like to say yes for dramatic and icky effects, no. I am in love with someone who lives across the country.

Bed Turnings

I begin when the day stops:

thinking of ceramic bowls and cups

waiting to be born in a dreamt Seattle

Of our bed which mother warns not to

Of lovely of kisses wet

Today’s sighs on the telephone:

speculations about how

much we should save.


Saving I love you

I don’t abuse it,

or I do.


How we stayed in bed for hours

dwindling our time away

“more love hours than could ever be repaid”

returning to inherency.


Deciding that we love furiously because

time is a captive of distance.


Being your ghost still, other:

haunting, but terrified

flying from coast to coast


into the ears of the Empire State

coloring my pillow in this dark,

moaning into it more than yours,

more than into what I knew before.


Knowing you are not of my before

You are of the golden hours

of after of winter of child

My self child. How she continues to grow

in your throat this autumn.


How she wants to be cradled,

but also to be a towering grown-up

who cries once every six months or so

who stays up past her bed time

and does not call for mama.


I turn towards abortion last before the sleep

I should terminate this child I am for you

I should have never been, possibly

I need to choke on this self and swallow to grow.


I end into—in two— Where did I go?

I ask this more than where I am going.


Eikoh Hosoe - Man and Woman, 1959-1960

"Eikoh Hosoe (細江 英公, Hosoe Eikō, born 1933 in Yonezawa, Yamagata) is a Japanese photographer and filmmaker who emerged from the experimental arts movement of post-World War II Japan. He is known for his psychologically charged images, often exploring subjects such as death, erotic obsession, and irrationality. Through his friendships and artistic collaborations he is linked with the writer Yukio Mishima and 1960’s avant-garde artists such as the dancer Tatsumi Hijikata." [Cultura Inquieta]

(via blue-voids)

Three Poems by Alex Dimitrov

Word Choice features original works of fiction and poetry. Read three poems by Alex Dimitrov with art by Paul Mpagi Sepuya.

László Moholy-Nagy, Das Veltgebaude (The Structure of the World), 1927.
Herbert Bayer, Hands Act, 1932.

Through Golden Hair

Syd Barrett became ours

then mine.

A madcap mined


for love notes in

Terrapin. In

bed I wanted you


to become

him. Somehow

Syd wouldn’t forget


my birthday. Somehow

he would wear velvet

suits and surprise

me with records.


Syd read poetry,

right? He painted

depression, colors you


do not know.

In the Redwoods I

hated sexism and your

silence when

 [ ]

a girl wasn’t supposed to

like backpacking.


Would Syd speak

for me? Syd is

dead, so I spoke

for myself.


Syd sang on our way

back and you and I made

love in the desert

and I forgot


about wanting to

elope with Syd with

flowers in my

hair in indigo



And so we played

new records and I

left Syd Barrett

on the shelf because I


really love

you, and I

mean you.


Brice Marden
[no title] 1971
William Eggleston, The Red Ceiling, 1973.
William Eggleston, Untitled (Chromes, 1969-1974).

My best friend has her own radio show that is focused on feminist music. Tuesdays/Thursdays; 8-10.

Syd Barrett, Terrapin. So sleepy, so love-dream 1970.

Sarah Charlesworth, Unidentified Woman, Hotel Corona, Madrid, 1980.
Sarah Charlesworth, The Heart’s Defense, 1989. From her series, The Academy of Secrets.
Kansuke Yamamoto, Giving Birth to a Joke, 1956.