Mind out of the gutter, people..
MILF: Mom I'd Like to Friend
Next post TBD: will be poetry & is intended for publishing, today (Sunday, Jan. 20, '24)
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Eurydice to Orpheus • Nov. 2023
eurydice’s silence is resounding. you can put anything in that emptiness. —@finelythreadedsky
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The curtains were blue because everything in the room was carefully colour coordinated, reinforcing the character's stylish and controlled characterisation. The curtains were blue because everything in the room was a different colour, reinforcing the character's eclectic and globe-trotting personality. The curtains were blue because the character is elsewhere established to hate the colour blue, subtextually implying that their deceased spouse was responsible for that decoration choice.
The curtains were blue because throughout their filmography the director consistently uses cool tones to mark moments of distance between characters. The curtains were blue to tie the events in that room into the broader oceanic motif of this particular novel. The curtains were blue because the assonance evoked a contrast with the following stanza of the poem.
Even the curtains looked expensive: floor to ceiling velvet drapes, in a flawless royal blue. She tucked the saucer up on the windowsill and tied back faded blue curtains with a loop of string. The narrow blinds were the same navy blue as the pinstripe suit of the man who served eviction notice that sent them to this office.
The curtains were blue because the author's childhood home had blue curtains, which they discussed in their letters related to their feelings of comfort in that place. The curtains were blue because the author's childhood home had blue curtains, which they discussed in their letters related to their feelings of grief in that place.
The curtains were blue as an allusion to the contemporary joke about literary criticism, an extension of the author's autocritical approach that will be further discussed in section seven.
The curtains were red, as a pun on;
The curtains were read.
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Victoria Chang, from Dear Memory: Letters on Writing, Silence, and Grief; “Dear Teacher,”
[Text ID: “The language of poetry reminded me to stay alive. It reminded me that, when it felt like I had nothing, I was nothing, I still had words. I could ride language as if on a horseback, and it could take me anywhere, including deeply into myself.”]
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musings on oranges
Alessia Di Cesare, Romero Barros, Wendy Cope, David Stevenson, Rebecca O’Connor, Andrea Kantrowitz, Nina LaCour, Augustin Rouart, Ocean Vuong, Chris Krupinski, Wendy Cope, Mickie Acierno, Jacques Prévert, Robert Spear Dunning, Wendy Cope
buy me a coffee
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Tony Hoagland, from Application for Release from the Dream; “The Complex Sentence”
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Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "Postcard," originally published in 1981
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roque dalton, "como tú," tr. jack hirschman
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the guerrilla moves among the people
as a fish swims through water
i sit by the river
i condemn the fish.
i condemn the water.
Liberal Poem for Palestine, Noah Mazer
in Protean Magazine, 1 March 2024
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