The Fish Market
Raoul Dufy - circa 1905
sitting at a carshop drinking hot coffee playing as Obama with his business attire on and sleeves rolled up to defeat aliens with a laser ray gun.
I couldn’t have predicted spending my morning any other way
[I]t’s impossible to see a world where we keep libraries open simply to pretend they still serve a purpose for which they no longer serve.
term of “working on paper” equals to writing the introduction paragraph and retiring to netflix and tumblr
before and now and after
of the landscape that is Man.
And you and I,
you and I each take our turns
at being the birds
and being destruction.
when you first kissed for real
and each time after
as evolution’s witness
to your darling, Darwin mouth.
How many kisses fell,
soft-bellied and shy-eyed kisses,
sweet kisses lost to famine
before these you bring to me.
These that have survived,
these which move and mate with mine
with their low cat growls,
these that have in them the long, wet strands
of every kiss of yours that came before.
Abortion seems to be the only medical procedure that people want to deny you based on how you got in that situation.
Drove drunk, got in an accident and need an organ transplant? No problem.
Messing around with a gun, accidentally shoot yourself in the leg and need surgery? Of course.
Smoke tobacco for most of your life and need treatment for lung cancer? Yep.
Climb a tree, fall out and break your leg? We’ll fix that right up.
Have sex and get pregnant when you don’t want to be? YOU GOT YOURSELF INTO THIS SITUATION AND YOU DESERVE NO MEDICAL HELP OR COMPASSION! THIS IS YOUR FAULT AND YOU WILL DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCES!
writing is safer, somehow
because my pen cannot stutter like my lips do,
and words get stuck in throats,
not fingertips, can’t stumble
on paper trails of blue lines
because writing is definite and clear
and no one can tell if i am crying
through written words alone