whatever will be... will be
Neruda makes nearly all other poetry seem trite.
#takeoff
hysterectomy
my first audience
was a small room
of ovaries. i read
them poems about
a planet called,
the heart.
we contemplated
your existence
like a myth
like a God,
blood is the only religion.
for nine months,
i made a body, a ship,
the vessel through
which i’d travel
hoping to someday
reach unapproachable land.(for my mother)
What an amazing poem!
I find the erotic such a kernel within myself. When released from its intense and constrained pellet, it flows through and colors my life with a kind of energy that heightens and sensitizes and strengthens all my experience.
Audre Lorde (via flaneur-)
Yes! I love that latinos are forming discussions around latinism and blackness!
A Zen poet wrote, “A person who is a master in the art of living makes little distinction between their work and their play, their labor and their leisure, their mind and their body, their education and their recreation, their love and their religion. They hardly know which is which and simply pursue their vision of excellence and grace, whatever they do, leaving others to decide whether they are working or playing. To them they are always doing both.
The Art of Living (via loveisthicker)
Recording my mother yell at me out for not using the potty. I was a toddler. She couldn’t believe I knew how to record, rewind, and replay…
I made this video for my Into to Video Art class… Check it out if you dare.
The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover. If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.
JAMES BALDWIN (via melodysblog)
remember to dance.
