#abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation

[asoftepiloguemylove]

"Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we're better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and 'xactly where they are-in their own distant heavens."

Natalie Díaz, Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation

#natalie diaz #abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation #poetry #poem #quotes #writing #queer poet #indigenous poet #indigenous poetry #mojave poet #mojave poetry #dark academia poetry #dark academia quote #dark academia writing #dark academia poem #dark academia #words #aesthetic #spilled ink #spilled writing #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of december

a.r. ammons collected poems: 1951-1971: "dunes"

jennifer robertson shrill shirts will always balloon

n. scott momaday in the presence of the sun: stories and poems, 1961-1991: "the delight song of tsoai-talee"

ted berrigan the collected poems of ted berrigan: "bean spasms"

natalie diaz when my brother was an aztec: "abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation"

greg miller watch: "river"

joanna klink excerpts from a secret prophecy: "terrebonne bay"

dorothy dudley pine river bay

brenda shaughnessy our andromeda: "our andromeda"

frank lima incidents of travel in poetry: "orfeo"

lehua m. taitano one kind of hunger

no'u revilla kino

linda hogan when the body

paul verlaine one hundred and one poems by paul verlaine: a biligual edition: "moonlight" (tr. norman r. shapiro)

mahmoud darwish the butterfly's burden: "the cypress broke" (tr. fady joudah)

mahmoud darwish the butterfly's burden: "your night is of lilac"

amir rabiyah prayers for my 17th chromosome: "our dangerous sweetness"

sara nicholson the living method: "the end of television"

charles shields proposal for a exhibition

ginger murchison a scrap of linen, a bone: "river"

tsering wangmo dhompa virtual

anne carson the beauty of the husband: "v. here is my propaganda one one one one oneing on your forehead like droplets of luminous sin"

muriel rukeyser the collected poems of muriel rukeyser: "the book of the dead"

anne stevenson stone milk: "the enigma"

david tomas martinez love song

robert fitzgerald charles river nocturne

thomas mcgrath the movie at the end of the world: collected poems: "many in the darkness"

linda rodriguez heart's migration: "the amazon river dolphin"

donald revell the glens of cithaeron

sumita chakraborty dear, beloved

angela jackson and all these roads be luminous: "miz rosa rides the bus"

kofi

#tbr #poetry #poetry list #tbr list #ar ammons #collected poems: 1951-1971 #collected poems #a.r. ammons #dunes #jennifer robertson #shrill shirts will always balloon #n. scott momaday #n scott momaday #in the presence of the sun #the delight song of tsoai-talee #ted berrigan #the collected poems of ted berrigan #bean spasms #natalie diaz #when my brother was an aztec #abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation #angela jackson #miz rosa rides the bus #and all these roads be luminous #ginger murchison #greg miller #watch #dorothy dudley #pine river bay #robert fitzgerald

[april-is]

April 15, 2024: Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation, Natalie Diaz

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation Natalie Diaz Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Know a guy named Gabe though— he came through here one powwow and stayed, typical Indian. Sure he had wings, jailbird that he was. He flies around in stolen cars. Wherever he stops, kids grow like gourds from women’s bellies. Like I said, no Indian I’ve ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something— Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John’s wife. It’s no wonder Pastor John’s son is the angel—everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They’re no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ’xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us.

--

Another abecedarian!

Also: + The Terrible Beauty of the Reserve, Billy-Ray Belcourt + Anchorage, Joy Harjo + At the Trial of Hamlet, Chicago, 1994, Sherman Alexie

Today in:

2023: Dutch Elm Disease, Valencia Robin 2022: More Bang for Your Buck Running Scared, Brennan Bestwick 2021: Rain, Peter Everwine 2020: Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale, Dan Albergotti 2019: Prayer, Galway Kinnell 2018: Egg, C.G. Hanzlicek 2017: Well Water, Randall Jarrell 2016: For Desire, Kim Addonizio 2015: The Coming of Light, Mark Strand 2014: Flying Low, Stephen Dunn 2013: The Envoy, Jane Hirshfield 2012: Red Wand, Sandra Simonds 2011: Trying to Raise the Dead, Dorianne Laux 2010: Asking for Directions, Linda Gregg 2009: A Blessing, James Wright 2008: New York, New York, David Berman 2007: Waste Land Limericks, Wendy Cope 2006: There Are Two Worlds, Larry Levis 2005: America, Allen Ginsberg

#abecedarian #indigenous / first nations #history #race #poetry #natalie diaz

[bones-ivy-breath]

Angels don't come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven't seen an angel fly through this valley ever.

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation by Natalie Diaz

#abdecedarian #natalie diaz #quote #poetry #literature #dark academia #aesthetic #dead academia #original post #native authors #indigenous authors #indigenous literature #native poetry #death #dark things

[the-verses-stained]

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation

Natalie Diaz, “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation” from When My Brother Was an Aztec

#indigenous #Natalie Diaz #one wing dipped in blood #poetry #indigenous poetry #fuck man

[smokefalls]

Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ‘xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us.

Natalie Díaz, “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation” from When My Brother Was an Aztec

#Natalie Díaz #When My Brother Was an Aztec #quote #poetry #2022 reads #Sealey Challenge

[adramoetic]

Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever.

Natalie Diaz, “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation”

#quotes #natalie diaz #abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation

[red-will]

Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Know a guy named Gabe though— he came through here one powwow and stayed, typical Indian. Sure he had wings, jailbird that he was. He flies around in stolen cars. Wherever he stops, kids grow like gourds from women’s bellies. Like I said, no Indian I’ve ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something— Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John’s wife. It’s no wonder Pastor John’s son is the angel—everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They’re no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ’xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us.

Natalie Diaz, “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation” from When My Brother Was an Aztec. Copyright © 2012 by Natalie Diaz. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press.

#relationships #family & ancestors #religion #christianity #the spiritual #natalie diaz #abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation #poem #poetry #words #writing

[milf-harrington]

our favourite poetry

(just a collection of peoples favourite poems bc i love poetry and i love sharing poetry)

"we can't all be the cambrian explosion" - by @mummer (from @czernsey)

"litany in which certain things are crossed out" - richard siken (from @dumbcuckbucket)

"the first water is the body" - natalie diaz (from @dumbcuckbucket)

"i am hoping to help this city heal from its trauma" - billy-ray belcourt (from @canned-clown)

"sacred" - billy-ray belcourt (from @canned-clown)

"boyfriend poems" - billy-ray belcourt (from @canned-clown)

"tenor" - luther hughes (from @canned-clown)

"abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation" - Natalie Diaz (from @canned-clown)

"faygele" - dane kuttler (from @canned-clown)

"little beast" - richard siken (from @canned-clown who continues to have good taste in poetry)

"the torn up road" - richard siken (from @canned-clown)

"do not go gentle into that good night" - dylan thomas (from @canned-clown)

"landscape with the fall of icarus" - william carlos williams (from @canned-clown) man something about this one just *clenches fist*

"the little boy lost" - william blake (from @canned-clown)

"annabel lee" - edgar allan poe (from @that-was-anticlimactic)

"the sea is history" - derek walcott (from @that-was-anticlimactic)

"if i could stop one heart from breaking" - emily dickinson (from @that-was-anticlimactic)

"confessions" - ijeoma umebinyuo (from anon)

"nothing gold can stay" - robert frost (from anon)

"a platonic love poem" - @/minalucania on instagram (from anon)

"aching hearts / missing home" - ijeoma umebinyuo (from anon)

"pantoum" - randall mann (from @itsbaditsgood)

dictionary poems by @boykeats (from me) // "fear" is probably my absolute favourite but all of them are gorgeous

"fallen angel prays beside the coffee maker" - @boykeats (from me)

"wisdom teeth" - @boykeats (from me)

"trans mans hymn" - @boykeats (from me)

"you are jeff" - richard siken

#poetry #poems #will likely add to this in the future bc i know i haven't listed all of my favourite poems yet i just can't remember their titles

[libraryofvenus]

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation - Natalie Diaz

Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Know a guy named Gabe though— he came through here one powwow and stayed, typical Indian. Sure he had wings, jailbird that he was. He flies around in stolen cars. Wherever he stops, kids grow like gourds from women’s bellies. Like I said, no Indian I’ve ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something— Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John’s wife. It’s no wonder Pastor John’s son is the angel—everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They’re no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ’xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us.

#poem #poetry #poem of the day #poemoftheday #literature #mustread #bookblr #books #reader #reading #quotes #must read #library #writers #writing #author #read #readers of tumblr #litblr #literatureblr #student #studentblr #studyblr #study #studyinspo #poets #native american #oppression #native american poetry #female poets

[snowlikestardust]

tag game

I got tagged by @thegc4life (technically my main got tagged, but I wanted to answer here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ). Thank you!

rules: tag some people you want to get to know better/catch up with and then answer these questions

last song: Glitter & Gold by Barns Courtney

last movie: over the last week or so I’ve managed to cumulatively watch Deadpool 2 by being in the room while it airs on TV. I saw the last quarter first, then the last half, and then last night I finally got somewhere near the beginning (ten or fifteen minutes in), so I’m counting it as me having seen the entire thing.

currently reading: lots of fanfiction! I’ve been going through @blackkatmagic‘s TCW fics recently, as well as reading @thegc4life‘s Hawks-Sensei and some other misc fics. I’ve been trying to get through Mirage by Somaiya Daud and A Game of Thrones by GRRM for the past few months, and I’ve almost actually finished Mirage! I’ve also been reading a lot of poetry. Some new favorites are “The Gift” by Li-Young Lee, “The Fish” by Elizabeth Bishop, “As Kingfishers Catch Fire” by Gerard Manley Hopkins, “Bullet Points” by Jericho Brown, “My Brother My Wound” and “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation” by Natalie Diaz, “A Girl Ago” by Lucie Brock-Broido, “Love’s Varietal” by Kimberly Quiogue Andrews, “Mountain Dew Commercial Disguised as a Love Poem” by Matthew Olzmann, and “Semblance” by Robin Becker. I also recently got my hands on Geffrey Davis’ poetry collection “Night Angler”, which I’ve started but not finished.

currently watching: I’m watching White Collar with my family :) I also recently went through a bunch of HBomberguy’s videos on YouTube, have discovered the side of YouTube that covers scandals (I know -3% about celebrities, so all the drama means exactly nothing to me, which makes everything so much funnier), and watched a bunch of BookTube videos for the first time in years.

currently craving: hugging my friends :( school’s started up so I’m seeing them, but I can’t even hold their hands! I got so used to hugging my friends last year and it’s so hard not being able to do that.

currently working on: I’ve been writing a lot poetry recently and some maybe?? fanficton?? I’ve gotten into this cycle where I have so many fic ideas but write sum zero. I started something in my journal recently that I hope to continue, which is a TCW oneshot, but who knows if I’ll finish or publish it. For non-writing, I’m editing some fics for The Batfam Big Bang and doing schoolwork.

currently playing: I have been cycling between Mahjong, Sudoku, solitaire, spider solitaire, and bubble shooter for weeks. When I close my eyes I either see Mahjong tiles or vibrant bubbles.

tagging: I have no idea who’s been tagged in this so ignore this if you’ve already done it or don’t feel like doing this, but: @kirazalea / @quilliumwrites / @jngsjngs / @istaricelebelasse / @theodeckerapologist / @ofmissing / @gaystannis / @blackkatmagic / @shebsart / @saltslimes / @obiwanobi

#tag game #snowlikestardust.txt #long post

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of may

david baker whale fall

gary fincke the girl who breathes through a hole in her neck

gerald stern loneliness

mary oliver music lesson

chen jun in the kitchen (tr. ming di)

arthur sze pe’ahi light

jennifer elise foerster leaving tulsa: “leaving tulsa”

caconrad lonely deep affection

tishani doshi girls are coming out of the woods: “how to be happy in 101 days”

joshua corey mrs. god

kamau brathwaite born to slow horses: “bread”

jennifer kwon dobbs paper pavilion: “digital archive”

kimberly nguyen pregnant pauses

lucille clifton the book of light: “brothers”

pippa little the summer i lived as a wolf

natasha sajé alive

marjorie meeker colour of water

rae armantrout veil: new and selected poems: “dusk”

yi sang au magasin de nouveautes (tr. sawako nakayasu)

tracy k. smith wade in the water: “dusk”

billy collins the breather

leah umansky unleashed

javier zamora how i learned to walk

jacob trapp portrait

satoru sato susuki and dragonflies

jinhao xie moonlight

maya emilia another bomb set off in

eleanor ross tayler captive voices: “against the kitchen wall”

giovanna lomanto i’ll pray for you when you leave

mary oliver in the blackwater woods

natalie diaz when my brother was an aztec: “abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation”

support this blog

#tbr list #poem #poems #poetry #david baker #whale fall #arthur sze #pe'ahi light #gerald stern #loneliness #jacob trapp #portrait #caconrad #lonely deep affection #marjorie meeker #color of water #colour of water #yi sang #au magasin de nouveautes #sawako nakayasu #natalie diaz #when my brother was an aztec #joshua corey #mrs god #mrs. god #jennifer kwon dobbs #paper pavilion #digital archives #moonlight #jinhao xie

[babakziai]

Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Know a guy named Gabe though— he came through here one powwow and stayed, typical Indian. Sure he had wings, jailbird that he was. He flies around in stolen cars. Wherever he stops, kids grow like gourds from women’s bellies. Like I said, no Indian I’ve ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something— Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John’s wife. It’s no wonder Pastor John’s son is the angel—everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They’re no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ’xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us. Natalie Diaz, “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation” from When My Brother Was an Aztec. Copyright © 2012 by Natalie Diaz. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press. Source: When My Brother Was an Aztec(Copper Canyon Press, 2012) Natalie Diaz BiographyMore poems by this author Poem of the Day: Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation Poem of the Day: Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation Poem of The Day {$excerpt:n} Source: Poem of The Day

http://babakziai.org/poem-of-the-day-abecedarian-requiring-further-examination-of-anglikan-seraphym-subjugation-of-a-wild-indian-rezervation/

#Poetry #Babak Ziai

[bones-ivy-breath]

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation by Natalie Diaz

#Abecedarian #natalie diaz #quote #typography #literature #aesthetic #dark academia #dead academia #poetry #original post #indigenous authors #indigenous poetry #native poetry #native authors #angels

[babylon-crashing]

Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Know a guy named Gabe though— he came through here one powwow and stayed, typical Indian. Sure he had wings, jailbird that he was. He flies around in stolen cars. Wherever he stops, kids grow like gourds from women’s bellies. Like I said, no Indian I’ve ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something— Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John’s wife. It’s no wonder Pastor John’s son is the angel—everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They’re no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ’xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us.

Natalie Diaz’s “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation”

#Natalie Diaz #quote unquote #poem #poetry #reblog #hell like zion

[revmeg]

Like I said, no Indian I'd ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something-- Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John's wife. It's no wonder Pastor John's son is the angel--everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They're no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean?

from “Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation” in When My Brother Was an Aztec by Natalie Diaz, p. 5

#Natalie Diaz #poetry #lit #When My Brother Was an Aztec