supermagicfuntimenow

[supermagicfuntimenow]

moonlight

you get trapped in beams. you remember the you before it was the i before your eyes made contact with your skin and accepted that small grace you sweet, helpless fawn. you violet hungry fire.  drawn to the moon like it ebbs you more than the water drawn to the moon like it was eyes like it ever held answers but painted you as it did the sky pink, purple, blue. green. yellow. red. black. the moon shone like she was a mother instead of a grave like you could see Black babies pulled up into the cold light the same liquid of life that sits in your throat your pulse pounding at the tip of a gun god disgusting and ugly under your feet your ankle bore down on and your hallucinations worse and loud but your memories worse. your premonitions worse.  dreaming of you jumping over a gate meant to keep you contained. dreaming of death the way it screams when it’s murder the present bearing down on your throat  and your eyes turned milky, full and you can only howl but you get caught in the beams, get stuck in the tides, arms pressed delicately to you holding a brittle body/heart skin soft and hard in all the wrong ways and scared to find love in all the ways it sings for fear of how it hurts when it’s ripped away for fear of how it feels in the dark the moon has you. and the moon devours you and i can only be grateful when she reveals the way you and i connect over watery silver over ships of death over cacophonous mass graves over tear gas and sirens over blood and over bread oh god, what have i done, what can i do what can make the sky open up inside my chest and breathe cool rain what can make the blood in my head pound in a way that lifts me what can erect us larger than violence, larger than death

she sings to us, too clouds her children, too and she says when she sucks me in, her face wide and dark and bright, death the lovely constant and you the forgiver of no worlds you who work to build but effortlessly raze blood steaming and red and frothing like coffee you go on and eat til you’re full.  you take this land and you rinse it off and you give it back and you build tables and you sit at them and you can worry about death when you’re empty. but for now, be full.

[supermagicfuntimenow]

moon

the end of the world has come and gone but the moon still visits us at night and i still find time to love you in the daylight

and some stores are still open, which is strange because they all stay empty and people eat more tomatoes whether they like it or not

and the moon is more hi-def, but is embarrassed about it but i love her craters and long spider lines the way you can only love a place you’ve never been and never will be

and i hate that even now, i can’t think of what it took to get us here and when i try to look back, i taste the blood in my mouth that warns me of my future as a pillar of salt punished for all things i never agreed to

and i hate that even now, i can’t think of what it took to get us here to eat up love and swallow it with a smile on our face to cull all the scorched-earthers and live to share our goods and to see each other clearly and without the use of a mirror or dirty water god, i wanna love you so bad it hurts i wanna know what it is to smell lavender i want to eat and lay down and feel the sun and i would love to know the moon, who watches over me

sweet watcher over all illusion beloved, demander of all discretion who moves over me and bathes me in silvery light when i lie in the grass to hide during the dew hour

who has trained me to see  and to hate what i see and to enfold myself into deep, wet, cold truths anyway the sky stays so purple, so still

and i hate that even now, i can’t think of what it took to get us here but looking up into the sky is drowning and loving is a million deaths and the trees loom, colossal and deeply ambivalent, and it is one small hope

talking to you i imagine will be like talking to a friend will be like colorful explosions will be like falling into each other’s oceans only to get up and slip again will be like holding a knife with the intent to protect, or kill. or both.

will be like loving people so much that we hate cops will be like licking alienation up from deep bowls and then talking about it will be all sadness like brownie batter, cloying and thick and hard to swallow but doing it anyway. 

and i hate that i don’t know what it’ll take to get us there right now moonlight is constantly shivering thru aerial waves to transmit pain directly into my skull  right now choking on death and capital violence and the ocean our feet slip in is beaten blood red the moon controls the ocean the moon controls the water and rain and pisces and cancer and scorpio and i can never stop crying right now i wanna eat with us, i wanna dip bread in oil and drink tea and i just wanna talk i wanna stop hurting i just wanna talk

i wanna love you so bad it hurts i wanna meet you so bad it hurts i wanna protect us so much it hurts i wanna live so much it hurts

[supermagicfuntimenow]

intro to lit theory

Authorship: Barthes, Death of the Author; Foucault, What is an Author?

Formalism: Eichenbaum, The Theory of the “Formal Method”;  Brooks, from The Well Wrought Urn: Studies in the Structure of Poetry

Structuralism: Saussure, Course in General Linguistics ; Barthes, from Mythologies

Psychoanalysis: Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams; Lacan, The Mirror Stage & The Significance of the Phallus

Ideology: Althusser, Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses; Foucault, Truth and Power

Feminism & Queer: Sedgwick, from Between Men; Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa; Wittig, One Is Not Born a Woman; Butler, Gender Trouble

Deconstruction: Derrida, from Of Grammatology;

Postcolonial: Fanon, from The Wretched of the Earth; Spivak, Can the Subaltern Speak?

Cultural Materialism: Adorno & Horkheimer, The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception; Williams, Base and Superstructure in Marxist Cultural Theory  

these are about 2/3 of the readings for my intro to lit theory course, if you’ve ever wondered what one studies on such courses, the links lead to free pdfs  

[supermagicfuntimenow]

winter

the trees seem longer and longer each year. they span some sort of space between my heart and the heart that beats in the center of this fine earth. soon everything will turn cold and you will have difficulty running to and from rooms. heat will roll off of you like a spire.

[supermagicfuntimenow]

Liberation

hurts; There’s pain always-- feeling tongueless, being tongueless, I bury my memories under the winter trees. I learn to eat. Enduring is hard, painful, impossible? On a night passage I might see a blue light. I’ll unroll tender lips to spread out sound, and burn my finger tips on that bright fire. Flesh pulls, even with my eyes closed. I felt the world, once. I took too much time. Seeds can trace life down into roots. I might drink the water at the seat of the tree. Regain what maybe was taken from me.

[supermagicfuntimenow]

fall

this month i have a 5 dollar bill in my breast pocket and i’m rearing to go. i have eyes to glance beyond you, but they’re not necessarily the best at seeing. they always seem to come back, sliding between the limbs alit to settle on a face too familiar.

[supermagicfuntimenow]

things i wish you could eat

-fire

-glass

-your own heart, in small increments, until it was gone

[supermagicfuntimenow]

I will be kissing no one this National Kissing Day. I will not be telling anybody how unreasonably in a state I am, or how my emotions are taking shape. I overestimate my importance, while they underestimate theirs. I wish I were a spellcasting cherub who, instead of making people fall in love, made them at least not afraid to try again. I wish, just once, that I was somebody’s first choice. That I had what they needed. That I was right. I wish for a break. I wish for a shining day. I wish to not crack. I wish to not break. I wish I could stop what I do I wish I had more power I wish I was more important or at least important enough to reach out and make a difference. I want to keep them from making my mistakes. I want them to look at me and know and ask and breathe with me and sleep. I want sleep. And I want to stop telling people that I don’t need anything because I need everything. This is the last day, until next year. Keep my secrets well.

(anonymous)

[supermagicfuntimenow]

summer

it’s on days like this that kids get lost in the brambles with nobody to help them find the way home. home is a big big house for lots of kids but only one fan. the air conditioning at the neighbors house tastes like ice and salt. you lay in a puddle on the bed where you tried to dissolve. it didn’t work oh, but your warm sorrow made it all worth it.

[supermagicfuntimenow]

spring

this is the longest minute that has ever existed. orange and fig bloom and rot from the same tree before i can blink. in front of their wilted roots i place wolfsbane and yarrow and struggle with accepting the loss i feel in their life. the roots smell of asphodel. if only i could turn into a thousand tired eyes.

[supermagicfuntimenow]

yes, every cell in you is reborn from january to november, but sometimes you have to resurrect sooner than that. sometimes you’re killed on a tuesday, and you’re dead for 6 days and you come back on a monday with skin made of a stone harder than the one it was made of before. and you might say to yourself, god, if it was talc before, how long until i can be made of concrete? how many times must i be compressed, must i be thrown into the fire before i gain the diamond heart i deserve?

[supermagicfuntimenow]

/brown/black/grey/     /o/a/e/

o.

the earth, which raises the flower from its genesis, and the drink on difficult mornings--  a.

the rub that cherishes flesh and the feel of your palm, your gaze pressed high on the clouds, overcast knowing e.

and, naturally, yes, sugar, whose history is wrapped within your bones, but also salt of the earth, and the light  of the world neither lost of savor nor glow

into history you placed yourself years before to dig from the well some space to grieve without repress, some space for private mourning

like the darkness of your eyes,  glossed by rain or not at all, like a presence by your side, to seek relent while not seeking-- like the color of the notes from your throat that helped the garden grow

some time to be wounded that does not exist yet, your heart, never slowing

[supermagicfuntimenow]

Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.

Héléne Cixious, The Laugh of the Medusa (via quoted-books)

[supermagicfuntimenow]

question:

how much of the shit we carry inside us is shit we stole from the burning houses of our fathers, our mothers in a blurring haze-- and, through the smoke that curled around us and whispered  "home," to our left or our right, how many of us saw the ghost faces of our grandparents imploring us to stay, to stay a while?

[supermagicfuntimenow]

how do you dissect trauma? how do you unpack it from its butcher box; how do you eat it and then sweat it [out] into something that others can use?

[supermagicfuntimenow]

sometimes you sit outside, slant, in the rain

nobody will look at you, even if you want them to

[supermagicfuntimenow]

imo all the blood was good it fell from ur chest bc it had to n all the ways u kept it in past its time only hurt u imo all the blood was good n its taste defined red behind ur teeth til u could pick it with ur tongue  n in a field sat n pulled burrs from ur wool

imo all the blood was good n it determined who u were with hands to pluck from water spheres which kept u cool in summertime imo all the blood was good as it would pulse through u move ur legs n climb to mountaintop as fingers dulled would burn imo all the blood was good its graze cool on ur skin u lay now prone n wonder how to go on let the loss close ur eyes