Originally.

Oh My God You Guys, I'm Fucking Thirty-Six Now
Thirty-Six
I Have To Like...Oh My God

I'm officially too old to love, I feel like
No one is even in love with me right now,
which is garbage,
okay some people are obviously but none of them count

CHOOSE ONE

FAILED TO NURTURE RELATIONSHIPS BORN OUT OF CONVENIENCE ONCE CHANGING CIRCUMSTANCES REQUIRED ACTIVE PARTICIPATION FROM YOU
WATCHED NETFLIX FOR SEVEN HOURS INSTEAD OF SLEEPING BECAUSE YOU HAVE ONCE AGAIN MISTAKEN INERTIA FOR REST

SOME GUY, KEATS PROBABLY: my god, sir knight
what has happened to you?
you look like some sort of lake without sedges
a sedgeless lake
if such a thing can even be imagined
no sedges on you
a sedgeless man

NOT ACTUALLY A POEM but some extremely great science writing that the weather service still uses, it gets me so HET UP as I read it because I am like "YEAH those branches are gonna start swaying!!! oh heck oh heck here it comes! MORE WIND!"

Description on Land | Description at Sea

Calm: Smoke rises vertically. | Sea like a mirror.

When you dress in the
same outfit by mistake, who
is the one to change.

Sometimes you’d rather
watch the U.S. women’s soccer
team than have sex.

Whether this dolphin
documentary is too
triggering to watch.

Before We Had Mirrors

We looked for ourselves
beneath the clouded surfaces
of everything, back then.

you know what god loves above all things
what
clean clothes
how's that
you know how like if a beggar came into your hall while you were eating dinner
and if his leggings have holes in them or whatever
grime
you have him beaten and thrown out into the street
I would?

do you know whats great about God
what
there's three of him so they can all beat you up at once
what?
like if you asked God to beat you
all of
all three persons of him could whale on you pretty efficiently

Come with me, my darling!

I shall take you to places you’ve never been!

You will be

SO

VERY

ANXIOUS

The Garden

My father bends over the koi pond to count the fish,
which are fewer now, dwindling in number.

First it was the birds, then it was sickness,
then age, something in the water—

Then death settled in, comfortably,
made up a bed and boiled pond scum for tea.

I imagine Geach and Wallace in the lecture halls, in the libraries – the famous Radcliffe Camera at the Bodleian, maybe, not so different from the room where I read their work. They’re greedily soaking up Western literature. They’re searching for themselves, but they keep finding the same stupid story: a woman experiences a sliver of life, then kills herself because of a man.

Anne Carson is a poet of perversities. By that I don’t mean that she writes graphically about sex (though she does) or that she makes art that is unseemly and difficult (though she does that too). What I really mean is that she works on the edges of what’s acceptable, in every book and genre in which she participates.

"The Goblin Market," Christina Rossetti.

I thought it was about goblins.

To say that God has left this place

Is to imply that he was once here

At this team-building

Improv workshop

What is the best Chrome plugin

For

Dismantling the

Patriarchy?

imagine that pent up with two women who love me whom I love and who coldly hate each other oh well how could this tragic situation have been avoided mm like trains on a senseless track we speed toward our fates speeding helplessly and speedily see I feel like forcing your wife and your mistress to live with you at the same time if it's not directly a cause you could at least this was…