In light of what happened to Renee Good, I thought it important to reiterate my grandmother's advice.

Larry Levis

From my brilliant friend @toddalcott.bsky.social on exactly why DHS released Jonathan Ross’ cellphone footage of him murdering Renée Good

It is good to be finally back home with my poetry and my books. A celebratory #shelfie

The Norwegian Nobel Prize committee has been forced to make a statement, declaring that the prize cannot be transferred. It's hard even to comprehend how stupid this has become

Muriel Rukeyser #ReneeNicoleGood

Some Charles Wright wisdom for your Friday Scar Tissue The thread that dangles us between dark and a darker dark, Is luminous

A beautiful Charles Wright for January January II Uncertainty harbors us like winter mist... The month is abandoned.

Basically this says that Denmark has changed the name of Greenland to Epstein Island so McFelon will stop talking about it.

Some Charles Wright wisdom for your Friday Scar Tissue The thread that dangles us between dark and a darker dark, Is luminous

Going home today after a 25-days post-op complication ordeal. I truly appreciated everyone who sent messages, good energy and poetry. Trying to find my footing here to be thankful for a life that is both a gift and out of our control

I'm super excited about our London and writing workshop with @minxmarple.bsky.social 11 Feb. We'll flirt with texts, write about love and produce a mini collection to celebrate @saloneurope.bsky.social turning 2. Join us! Ticket includes salon entry. www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/let-me-tel...

I have a plan to radicalize the centrist pundit class using the same mechanism that radicalized me: regular exposure to smoking hot anarchists

I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder

9 janvier 1908 : Naissance de la philosophe, romancière et essayiste française Simone de Beauvoir. Souvent considérée comme une théoricienne majeure du féminisme, elle participa au mouvement de libération des femmes en France dans les années 1970. fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simone_... #CeJourLà

Three Sentences for a Dead Swan James Wright Now one after another I let the black scales fall From the beautiful black spine Of this lonesome dragon

Three Sentences for a Dead Swan James Wright Now one after another I let the black scales fall From the beautiful black spine Of this lonesome dragon

I am sick to death of right-wingers getting a veto over factual reality, and of journalists giving them that veto.

it’s a wicked world in all meridians

You and your wife drop your 6-year-old off at school. You just moved here. You see ICE terrorizing your new neighbors. You film them, as is your legal right. Your wife complies with orders. She is then shot in the head. You still have to pick up your child later today. This could be you.

America’s steady descent into barbarism. The National Review has a post titled “Don’t Follow the False Sirens of International Law” — one person comments “There is no international law. There is only conquest. Greenland is next.”

“i want back my rocking chairs, / solipsist sunsets, / & coastal jungle sounds...” A poem by Renee Nicole Good, who was murdered by ICE earlier today. lithub.com/renee-nicole...

I live in rural Minnesota. Rural Minnesota is fucking pissed, y'all. Old white grandmas and grandpas out in rural Minnesota are keyed up. They're turning -out-. Don't you fucking dare let the bot campaigns tell you otherwise.

She was a poet.

3D print whistles. Assemble whistle kits. Hand out know your rights cards. Take a shift at the ICE watch hotline. Offer to help manage a spreadsheet for your local mutual aid or community defense group. Walk kids to school. Raise money for resisters. Raise money for impacted neighbors.

A Winter poem by Pulitzer James Wright Late November in a Field Today I am walking alone in a bare place And winter is here.

"what are we going to do with 20,000 ICE agents if we abolish ice" well to start with I think we should all literally spit on them in public for the rest of their lives

Abolish and prosecute ICE. They did a murder in broad daylight today. Imagine what they're doing in the closed facilities we're somehow not even allowed to see.

A Winter poem by Pulitzer James Wright Late November in a Field Today I am walking alone in a bare place And winter is here.

I like you; your eyes are full of language. Anne Sexton, 1964

PC to IB: ‘In any case, why America? Is it really so important to gather experience in a place where it is so often measured by success?’ @seagullbooks.bsky.social

Archie Shepp and Roswell Rudd - Slug's, New York, 1967. Photo by Hervé Gloaguen

Early morning meditation by the hospital window with poets James Wright and Deborah Digges

Auguste Renoir, Pierre Bonnard and Misia Natanson photographed by Alfred Natanson after the funeral of the French poet Stéphane Mallarmé. September 1898.

Mrs Dalloway said she'd call Interflora herself

Good morning to the Keatsians

👌🏻

Life is perhaps that enclosed moment when my gaze destroys itself in the pupil of your eyes and it is in the feeling which I will put into the Moon’s impression and the Night’s perception. ~ Forugh Farrokhzad

My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness. ~André Breton

Israel just shot up a university in Palestine, wounding students. Just thought you should know.

My only syllabic poem! Written when I had my students write a syllabic poem for a prosody class! (And then I dismantled it, years later, and saved only one line, which appears in a different poem…) #revision

If you're at all interested in poetry, you should be following rob mclennan on one of his many sites. We're delighted to see two of our titles make it onto his year end round up, and to see our senior editor, Paul Vermeersch's, latest collection there as well: dusie.blogspot.com/2026/01/a-be...

Another stunning poem by one of my favorite American poets By a Lake in Minnesota James Wright And downshore from the cloud I stand, waiting For dark.

Poet James Wright, helping me to pray, again Prayer in my Sickness Come down. Come down. I lie afraid. I have lain alien in my self so long. How can I understand love's angry tongue?

Günter Rössler, Berlin, 1963

He is a ten, but he can't do the brushing your finger over the lips thing of Jean-Paul Belmondo in À Bout de Souffle

Another stunning poem by one of my favorite American poets By a Lake in Minnesota James Wright And downshore from the cloud I stand, waiting For dark.

Trump is such a narcissistic monster that he might go for this and exchange Venezuela for a shared Peace Nobel Prize

My top 10 guitar players, in no particular order Al di Meola John McLaughlin Paco de Lucia (giving myself some license here) Tony Iommi David Gilmour Pat Metheny Jerry Cantrell Little Walter Jim Hall Muddy Waters

I have been thinking... convalescence is a whole other state of being, it is a kind of other Self. For many days in this hospital, I'd wake up and would not recognize myself. Not my body. Not my face in the mirror. But not even my own consciousness.