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>>>*resetting our co-ordinates*<<<

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excerpts from ‘I WILL NOT BE PURIFIED’, written and read by Sophie Strand 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_WTkVXLvO8

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patches plasters and scabs for when u you need em

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rubbing material

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theo and brigid ran through CLIP generator (AI reverse prompt generator)

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cherry’s hand ran through CLIP generator (AI reverse prompt generator)

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rosehip jAM (just About Managing)

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illustration of a cat from the herbal of Adam Lonicer from the end of 16th century (via @bibliotheca_rarebooks on instagram)

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CCCcccc

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Free Flight

Nothing fills me up at night I fall asleep for one or two hours then  up against my gut alarms I must arise and wandering into the refrigerator think about evaporated milk homemade vanilla ice cream cherry pie hot from the oven with Something Like Vermont Cheddar Cheese disintegrating luscious on the top while mildly I devour almonds and raisins mixed to mathematical criteria or celery or my very own sweet and sour snack composed of brie peanut butter honey and a minuscule slice of party size salami on a single whole wheat cracker no salt added Or I read Cesar Vallejo/Gabriela Mistral/last year’s complete anthology or I might begin another list of things to do that starts with toilet paper and I notice that I never jot down fresh strawberry shortcake: never even though fresh strawberry shortcake shoots down raisins and almonds 6 to nothing effortlessly effortlessly is this poem on my list? light bulbs lemons envelopes ballpoint refill post office and zucchini oranges no it’s not I guess that means I just forgot walking my dog around the block leads to a space in my mind where during the newspaper strike questions sizzle through suddenly like Is there an earthquake down in Ecuador? Did a T.W.A. supersaver flight to San Francisco land in Philadelphia instead Or whatever happened to human rights in Washington D.C.? Or what about downward destabilization of the consumer price index and I was in this school P.S. Tum-Ta-Tum and time came for me to leave but No! I couldn’t leave: The Rule was anybody leaving the premises without having taught somebody something valuable would be henceforth proscribed from the premises would be forever null and void/dull and vilified well I had stood in front of 40 or 50 students running my mouth and I had been generous with deceitful smiles/soft- spoken and pseudo-gentle wiles if and when forced into discourse amongst such adults as constitutes the regular treacheries of On The Job Behavior ON THE JOB BEHAVIOR is this poem on that list polish shoes file nails coordinate tops and bottoms lipstick control no screaming I’m bored because this is whoring away the hours of god’s creation pay attention to your eyes your hands the twilight sky in the institutional big windows no I did not presume I was not so bold as to put this poem on that list then at the end of the class this boy gives me Mahler’s 9th symphony the double album listen to it let it seep into you he says transcendental love he says I think naw I been angry all day long/nobody did the assignment I am not prepared I am not prepared for so much grace the catapulting music of surprise that makes me hideaway my face nothing fills me up at night yesterday the houseguest left a brown towel in the bathroom for tonight I set out a blue one and an off-white washcloth seriously I don’t need no houseguest I don’t need no towels/lovers I just need a dog

Maybe I’m kidding

Maybe I need a woman a woman be so well you know so wifelike so more or less motherly so listening so much the universal skin you love to touch and who the closer she gets to you the better she looks to me/somebody say yes and make me laugh and tell me she know she been there she spit bullets at my enemies she say you need to sail around Alaska fuck it all try this new cerebral tea and take a long bath

Maybe I need a man a man be so well you know so manly so lifelike so more or less virile so sure so much the deep voice of opinion and the shoulders like a window seat and cheeks so closely shaven by a twin-edged razor blade no oily hair and no dandruff besides/ somebody say yes and make me laugh and tell me he know he been there he spit bullets at my enemies he say you need to sail around Alaska fuck it all and take a long bath

la-ti-dah and lah-ti-dum what’s this socialized obsession with the bathtub

Maybe I just need to love myself myself (anyhow I’m more familiar with the subject) Maybe when my cousin tells me you remind me of a woman past her prime maybe I need to hustle my cousin into a hammerlock position make her cry out uncle and I’m sorry Maybe when I feel this horrible inclination to kiss folks I despise because the party’s like that an occasion to be kissing people you despise maybe I should tell them kindly kiss my

Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night I should go downstairs dump the refrigerator contents on the floor and stand there in the middle of the spilled milk and the wasted butter spread beneath my dirty feet writing poems writing poems maybe I just need to love myself myself and anyway I’m working on it

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Better Days are Ahead

Better days are ahead. The days of the child musicians in tune with the parks. The days of the orbiting earth and other meetings like kisses. I say better days are ahead. Days with cigars and beautiful women. Days of brides like flowers. Better days will come. Days without hate or war. Days of moon and sun. The days fiery red candles will come for dinner. Happy days are coming. Seas and friends will come. The sunrays speak of the day. I mean the day of the next big star. They say better days are ahead. The dream day will come. The days of marvel are to come. Legitimate police. Days bright as fire that sound like thunder. Days of angels and guitars. Days of metal trumpets. Better days are ahead. Do not be discouraged. The days of paid debts and banquets of grapes will come. The days like circuses will come. The tamed lions and elephants and hyenas will come. The days of the peaceful jungle will come. A long trip of days like song. The vast Nile now a furrow. The days of liquid flames, of flying men, of galaxies, of women who will come as the night.

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from Journal: April 19 : The Southern Tier

All our farewells al- ready prepared inside us   .   aaaall our deaths we carry inside us, double-yolked, the fragile toughness of the shell   .   it makes sustenance possible, makes love    possible as the red buds break against the sunglight possible green, as legs move against legs possible softnesses     .     The soft-boiled egg is ready now  .                                                        Now we eat.