i fell to my knees in the kitchen. the legs that had carried me so far finally gave way for grief days after we sent the papers petitioning for the dissolution of our plans, our family, our home. collapsed in front of an unknown future, face to the floor, i felt a sudden, soft touch of a wet nose on my cheek, heard a rumbling purr originating from some depth impossible to imagine in such a fragile creature. i've always wondered if she knew i was in pain or if she was simply curious and pleased to finally have me at her level, a welcome change in her old age. her reasons forever unknown, the moment forever etched into my memory, she managed to reach through the darkness and create a space for light: one single burst of laughter, then back to mourning. for us, but also for her, dying at an increasing rate those days. three weeks later we took her pain away, then stopped her heart. sometimes happiness piles up, sometimes it's sorrow. many good things ended that fall but i
Portrait of an Underachiever by nawkaman, literature
Literature
Portrait of an Underachiever
He sorts conversations
autobiographically, picking passages
that best brandish his full-figured ego
and leaving out the details.
He'll probably grow up
and have a wine cellar full of bullshit
vintages and other frivolities-
he uses words like frivolities.
Regularly.
He is alliterative, makes allusions
in ordinary conversation
and never orders off the menu- except
when it's in French or Latin or
Swahili Bantu.
And his life is full of empty moments
when he should have been doing big things.
my father a king, my lover a genius, i a fool by inkstaineddove, literature
Literature
my father a king, my lover a genius, i a fool
my heart belongs to
men whose bodies have
long been cold beneath the earth,
who took their last breath many a
century ago.
i find myself, when i am
alone late at night
without another soul around,
praying to a king i
never knew.
i wish for his guidance,
his approval,
his praise.
when i whisper his name,
it tastes like blood and iron and
paternal.
my kingly father is warm,
stern, reflective, everything i
had hoped my
flesh and blood father
could've been.
i find long lost lovers in
the pages of biographies.
they reach out to me -
calling my name,
grabbing hold of my clothes
to drag me down to them
in between the pages.
each one of them
IV. You wanna know what Mona Lisa's smiling about? by philologie, literature
Literature
IV. You wanna know what Mona Lisa's smiling about?
Mona’s sitting there on the bus, right
+ it’s like
ok,
what are you smiling at,
like, why’s your Monday morning lookin so much better than mine, girl?
+ she’s all like:
I’ve been walking through this river for a month
and all I can see is the milky way
above me, through the trees’
leaves and their trunks, even
the river has slow warm
galaxies and black
holes and pulsars swirling
around my calves like
I’m here.
When I dip my fingers in
I get dawn all over them
like the light already spidering
up
my ankles
and my calves are glowing,
and my femurs
have started now too.
I can fee
Let’s meet again in an alternate universe
where your eyes are brown and I dyed my hair black
because I hated being a natural blue.
I’ll teach you to play guitar
and you’ll show me how to fly,
scholars caught in an intellectual love affair,
a tandem bike going nowhere.
I’ll know you by the gentleness
of your fingertips and you’ll need
no identifier but the slant of my handwriting,
because, world to world, some things don’t change.
“No nudes,” the tech said as he sidled up next to me.
“What?”
“Word from the top. No tits for aliens.”
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“Sagan's throwing a fit in his office.”
“I might throw one myself. Might as well shove an Amish guy into space and call it good. What about birth? Basic anatomy?”
“Seems fine.”
“Well, I guess the aliens didn't need to see the Statue of David. Not like it's a big deal.”
He laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all day, or like it was either laugh or he'd never stop crying.
Someone picked up on
I don’t know what I’ll do
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
