I am living abroad on my balcony watching a boy throw snow and we are someone to be loved in 1700’s housekeeping manuals. communicating with the dead is an invocation kissing someone familiar. I am called the world for little.
the rear-view mirror is fragile medicine and I have my heart painted in a whitewash room. my best friend is a cowboy. he tells me he feels bad hes not the gay uncle who I had gone riding with on my by bicycle on the highway the day before. he says instead he will find the prettiest girls to screw and pick out items from my garage that are not on my mothers list. I miss his nakedness. want to soak in arms for an afternoon.
two rude men want my phone and start to scream larkspurs. I grab my arame and throw them birdseed. as I drive away the bullets suisse hunger into a sort of distillery through my back. I convince myself they are just sound wounds the shapes of crocuses. I drive up to a bank and a chokecherry teller says theres a lot of blood. I pass out.
I wake and my parents cant understand why Im there think nothing of it other than they dont know why I had to order a large coffee. Im still covered in blood when they want to interview me. I feel the filling of the bullets sealed like honey in the cracks of husks. I remember my brother inside a brother. I remember you naming the name of love. the fling that tells you that you are alive.
I am her. I play with a katydid on a floor that smells like scotch. you are my last rib caught in a locket. an orchid that turns by looking.
profiles in poetics: Lalyi Long Soldier
Brand new work: The Image Heavy
Layli Long Soldier’s kind articulate dance of linear dimensions and tonal inflections enfold and expound difference.
The Classics and their interviewees play a little choose your own adventure.
profiles in poetics: Elizabeth Colen
Brand new work: HELLO STOCK FOOTAGE
Elizabeth Colen is a witness of absence entangled in the chemistry of writer as engineer, immediacy, and intimacy.
yes that is right. tampons in korea. lots of them. graffiti with poems written on tampons
and so it began
Tampon Installation Korea
well fuck it my good
That would mean that I didn’t live for any studies the way that the bodies suck honey or fuck a blow want to marry this person she has too many clothes on im not going to marry this person addicted to heroin speak english I thought you were yelling porn we are poets it just happens honest its usually very shitty so you just gotta laugh more American accent haters are the worse. They are just dicks its okay, the message was taken its usually what happens in life 12 hr days can suck honey or fuck a blow
Mothafucker work really well aright I really want jazz I got new strings they match the olive rosin I got in Italy when I was seventeen deli tinkles well that’s a typo for you sounds like a peanuts redbox movie review sir love so soul good I love my violin again … shitty strings The eyes are gorgeous My eyes Fruits I love you why is it so hard to find beautiful rings my grandmothers it was a false engagement I had to lose it I lived it
fuck this song makes me sad will I ever find my love and gave a family will are you only chance or would you just email me and say hi $100 strings $5 black nail polish and some deodorant because people here don’t sweat? or all use the same brand it’s puzzling and hard to find I don’t need jeans maybe a do I love forever twenty one I’m so confused no one is telling me I have gorgeous eyes to my eyes with theirs who sees them into my soul who can see that
into my soul I do love everywhere I probably just need to sleep defeated Essential it’s not funny I wish I could have protected me earlier I guess I did there was blood It leaked out on to the work bench I had to scrape it off with a spoon I burned a scented prayer candle for a week and the smell never went away. I got drunk and told him he killed his dog He threw the nut cracker at my face.I ran five miles to my neighbors and fucked him he asked me why I hadn’t shaved I’m a horrible human when I came home in the morning to shower brad knew, he drank all day and brought home the girl the bed he blood mine. I don’t know what else he did, I pulled the covers off, I went towards him first. It was me. I just didn’t care, I hated being a victim.
But I don’t know why he strangled me. I was already almost dead. fuck me. I don’t like the questions or the answers I can’t catch my breath just me why sex is so hard, why it’s more than presence or saying trigger words like faggot straight love for me is anything but cliche I don’t want a woman I don’t want to say this In all cases man or woman it was what they wanted first Is this true then I knew how to be loved To get theirs I still have never fallen Will I I’m exhausted
and this is still not me. but for an instant
Periodstain sent out six interviews to three men and three women. Two of the three men responded immediately. From the women: crickets. Talking honestly about sex or even humorously is not something women enjoy pasting all over the internet. Men, on the other hand, are entitled to be open on the subject. Our culture hands it to them on a silver platter accompanied with condoms and a young girl fresh out of her teens. Periodstain has decided to take sex back from our culture. We own it now and shall do with it whatever we please starting with answering a few questions to lighten the mood and our vaginas.