|Dis your buuusssday! I have trost you will enjoy!|
from Entries: L.A. Log, by Eloise Klein Healy
coiling out to Malibu
on a copper strand
my sunglasses shine
like two westbound storefronts
open to the scenery business.
I note the traffic patterns
of two Western Gulls
flying the Santa Monica Freeway,
arching across their backs
as they exit up.
from Dividing the Fields by Eloise Klein Healy
Plants would get most answers right
if left to themselves.
And that moon tonight,
you watch it.
That moon and those trees
have worked together dividing things
since they were girls.
from The Committed, by Viet Thanh Nguyen
“We all become accustomed to the aroma of our own contradictions.”
from Wind in a Box, by Terrance Hayes
“Nights of inviolate wine and laughter, mornings with a finch opera outside our windows.”
from an interview with Meridel Le Sueur
Question: You don't write much about love—romance. Is that because that's bourgeois?
Meridel Le Sueur: Yes, it's bourgeois. I was trying to get away from bourgeois ideologies of sex, of romance and the family…
some beauty shop talk from Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison
“Must not be working out if she’s trying to kill him.”
“Be just like her. No appointment. No nothing. Come in here all late and wrong and want something fancy.”
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