I love this.

A protest poem by Gregory Corso that seems very timely on today's America I am a great American ... I love America like a madness! ... 2. They are frankensteining Christ in America in their Sunday campaigns They are putting the fear of Christ in America.

A protest poem by Gregory Corso that seems very timely on today's America I am a great American ... I love America like a madness! ... 2. They are frankensteining Christ in America in their Sunday campaigns They are putting the fear of Christ in America.

Today's poet is Beatnik Gregory Corso, with this City Lights edition of Gasoline.

the endless ground of your own deep pulse, Rainer Maria Rilke, tr. David Young

I choose not to avoid anything that comes. Tao Qian, trans. Arthur Sze @coppercanyonpress.bsky.social

I think it rains Wole Soyinka I think it rains that tongues may loosen from parch Uncleave rooftops of the mouth, hang heavy with knowledge.

Collage #1534 El eterno femenino.

Prisoner Wole Soyinka Curl inward to the earth, breed The grey hours, And days, and years

Sometimes I borrow books I already have at the library so I have a deadline to read them

No notes

Good evening with a poem by Nigerian poet Christopher Okigbo Bridge I am standing above you and tide, above the noontide Listening to the laughter of waters

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