woman grunting

every day i wake up

to the sky opening up

and then I go inside.

For the rest of my life.

I know this as 

you know this

which is to say

Not at all.

44th Birthday Evening, at Harris’s

BY TED BERRIGAN

Nine stories high Second Avenue
On the roof there’s a party
All the friends are there watching
By the light of the moon the blazing sun
Go down over the side of the planet
To light up the underside of Earth
There are long bent telescopes for the friends
To watch this through. The friends are all in shadow.
I can see them from my bed inside my head.
44 years I’ve loved these dreams today.
17 years since I wrote for the first time a poem
On my birthday, why did I wait so long?
                                                                         my land a good land
its highways go to many good places where
many good people were found; a home land, whose song comes up
from the throat of a hummingbird & it ends
where the sun goes to across the skies of blue.
I live there with you.

Tags: ted berrigan

Susie knows a monster named doctor

who calls her at 4 in the  morning

should he spring the xtra 2 dollars

for a box of tampax pearl compacts

or just go store brand?

/

Doctor is always bleeding

Doctor is always dry heaving

Susie presses a wet tampax to

monster’s head

She keeps his swollen eye

above her bed

Says if you want that

you gotta want this, too-

or instead

/

When he reaches for it

She reaches for him

Unfolds the waist of her skirt

Underneath is all just smoked ham

Prosciutto? he asks

He is a woman of luxury

He knows the right stuff

He knows he’s dying and should

rejoice rejoice rejoice

The zines of Vicky Lim (for their hilarious treatment of the neurotic mother-daughter dyad)

Emmanuelle Guattari,  I, Little Asylum (for its insight into the radical French intelligentsia from the perspective of a child)

Valerie Mejer, Rain of the Future (for creating a language for emotion without speaking the emotion directly)

Helene Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing (for helping (un)understand where I go at night: the School of Dreams)

Everything by Fred Moten. I once joked on twitter that looking up everyone Fred references inB Jenkins has been my real education. I learned about so many things through him. Mostly I discover things through people. My friends Ryan McGinnis and Dana Ward have been wonderful windows lately.

http://entropymag.org/you-make-me-feel-2-jackie-wang/

"I love mispronunciation. Anyone who can’t help but deviate can pretty much tell me anything."

— Fred Moten

Tags: fred moten

Things we still have to share:

-bathrooms

-the bed

-the weather

-air

-cellphone conversations in public places

-the moon

-the tide

-the sun

-the morning and the dawn

-morning afters

-diseases

-bacteria

-gods

-blood

-being bewildered and humbled by our own unknowningness

-the fear of one another

- the fear of eachother

-getting and giving

-loneliness

-food when you order too much or can’t decide what you want on the menu

Some slippery paranormal

keeps texting me torture porn

calling me Dorothy

Breaking fish bones

in my home

and picking ‘em out of my throats

in the mornings

"And at the time, I happened to be reading Ecstasies, a book by Carlo Ginzburg, a text purportedly about the Black Sabbath, but actually about a great deal else. Reading this book led me to realize that a history I had taken to be minor, the history of witchcraft, could be viewed as an alternative major history, as a history of women. So I became fascinated by witchcraft and by related subjects, such as dreaming. I started working with some people who knew those disciplines. My Mother: Demonology came from that place."

— Kathy Acker - Paragraphs

Tags: kathy acker

Too Many Creeps.

Tags: bush tetras

blackcontemporaryart:

top to bottom: 

Dawoud Bey, David Hammons standing in front of Richard Serra’s ‘T.W.U.,” 1981. Photo courtesy Dawoud Bey.

Dawoud Bey, David Hammons peeing on Richard Serra’s “T.W.U.,” 1981. Photo courtesy Dawoud Bey.

Dawoud Bey, David Hammons receiving a citation from a police officer, 1981. Photo courtesy Dawoud Bey.

one of my favourite pieces/how i feel every day, really.

(via dreamhampton1)