EL OH EL

(Source: best-of-imgur, via dontcryshitwolf)

for RH

We keep in touch phone stuff but what
do I look like in the cumuli
of your mind through the cold half-
sandwich of your lunch break—

I’m learning I don’t always have to clean
my plate, but there’s a saying about way
about waste or is it waist anyway it’s morning.
I’ve already been so many people today.

Does the me you gather in my absence
match the me in my head, the mirror
the text snapchat face chat, the fat
kid wrapped in gummy memory?

Once, we didn’t have the power to turn off—
deathless compass darting landward,
baskets woven to the gods. Now you,
you turn me on.

wilkes1:

yr girl is a Center for Fiction fellow (link)

My BFF is super smart and super pretty and super paaaaaid

by J Morrison and Jamie Stewart

Have you ever wondered why thrift
stores always smell the same? As if
repurpose, itself, has a smell.

Drrrt fag in slimming black, which abs-
orbs light and reflects nothing—
Everyone, you said, knows their number

unless it changes. When things change
hands, its designation is based on
intent, like leather. You want to fuck me.

Sober daytime sex is the naked-
est. It was hotter then, our bodies
aromatic as cracked something.

What’s the shelf-life of second hand?
You didn’t take off your shirt and I could-
n’t tell who was more naked.

Rihanna always has a song
on the charts. Lava hair, baggy

denim, Keith Haring—it’s often easy
to think she’ll always be there, like

Michael Jackson and frequent texts I recite
to friends, who avalanche aww he’s a keeper.

Feelings are neither created nor destroyed
but conserve over time, like fame it’s to-

tally a physical law, I remind myself
when the text says “seeing someone else.”

Thinkin thinkin bout u

I’m starting to have an eye
on the makings of dry skin.
Impulse aisle induced psych-

osis— Bikini magazine ice cream
schism. Seriously, fuck magic
bullet thinking. Too much credit

is given the panic of “self-control.”
Hard work is hard, but decisions,
like metaphors, are built within

a moat of desire. Love in a hopeless
kingdom. It’s like, sugar and booze feel
good then bad, sometimes real bad,

but art feels bad before it feels
even worse, and then even the best
and I just want to wear a pretty dress.

chrisnewnet:

I’m proud to announce that Ticking will be screened as part of the Northside Festival this coming June.  

The film has been hand picked by Tommy Pico of birdsong and will screen as part of his curated “Night of Adaptations”.

You can find out more about the evening here.

TOMMY PICO THATS ME!!

With every visit home, they say
I sound more and more like a New

Yorker. It’s easier to breathe through
certain vowels than others. So what

if phrases come to mind in the voice
of Nikki Minaj, or my bff who affects

that parental insistence, or a phone sex
operator I called once who asked “what

do you like?” which I couldn’t answer but
invoke when going down. That’s the damn

question. It changes like an accent, elusive
as a mantra said with different inflections.

mauvelipstick:

hey friends n strangers,

i finished my zine with text by me and drawings by THE Dutchesse Crystal

so if you’d like a copy just email me your address and i’ll gladly send you one.  if we met like once/never and you feel weird asking me for it over email, don’t feel weird.  i often tell people i barely know that they were in my dreams.  you’re in good company.

kmorse@gm.slc.edu

xok

Kayla Morse is one of my favorite living poets and her zine is really really really really really good. SO get one while you can, peeps.

(via birdsongmag)

THIS

(Source: frolic-chronis, via queeraspie)

A fun little interview of yrs truly just went up on the Publishing Genius blog, courtesy of ms. Sarah Jean Alexander, about zines, chicken wings, all sorts of things. :-)