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Showing most liked content on 11/20/17 in all areas

  1. 3 points
  2. 1 point
    ...ouch. That hits really hard. Sending internet hugs, because it doesn't feel like there's much more I can do. (If I could do more, I would.)
  3. 1 point
    I practically have an allergy to punctuation, and I really need to work on that. Also, thank you so much for your feedback! (It really means the world.) I shall continue revising. :)
  4. 1 point
    i. on the chaos scale this week has been a train wreck colliding with dragons add some atomic bombs you say and we laugh because what else do you do what else do you do ii. i am clinging to the last shreds of my sanity existing in repetitions and handfuls white white blue pink green oval diamond oval circle circle a discovery: these things meant to heal occasionally make everything worse iii. there will be brighter days there will be there must be believe because it is mandatory regardless of whether it is true how else am i to be a pillar when everyone i know is crumbling
  5. 1 point
    theyre screaming, actually hollering at my brother, tears and throat scratch & he's yelling back, yelling threat and fight and raw defiance in face of parental intervention & he's shouted his last, gone away sulk-shouldered they talk about him in moderate, father mild, chalked to teen age evens out mother wild, voice still raised and rolling med threats like hard candy in red, finality-caked mouth & there are some things kids don't get to choose
  6. 1 point
    damn. the clause "he's yelling back" is powerful. and the med threats... like hard candy in red... and the last line... damn. yeah.
  7. 1 point
    There are lights on in the house next door. The glowing yellow window-eyes Shine forlorn and hazy through the evening fog. It’s been a long time Since those lights shone through the dark, And it’s been night for a small forever. The lights are full of memory, Beacons that speak of laughter, Childhood cartoons, Blue and orange play-dough. I still look out for them, even though They aren’t on much anymore. The light isn’t warm either, it’s too distant To be anything but stained-glass And unreachable. My mother says it’s not my fault, (The ghost stories) That they didn’t leave because of me. (The wild one) The doors are locked for another reason, But I can’t help wondering (Hoarse from yelling, cursing the world) Whether it would’ve been different If I had grown up normal. Could I still go back to the windows? Lay my palm flat against the clear glass And look in at past playtimes and exploration Through the orderly little neighborhood? Or would the lights turn off, blink out, Like they usually do, Leaving me in the empty winter street And the frigid, soul numbing air, Wishing I hadn’t grown up a freak? But it’s too late now. The lights are just on tonight While I’m trapped inside this box of a bedroom, Staring at them like they’re lighthouse gleams From an island far away. I think I’ll stay back here and remember them, Waiting as time takes their glow little by little. At least they won’t fade from my mind.
  8. 1 point
    ...so apparently I have a friend now?
  9. 1 point
    i want my paint the color of the sea i want the salt blood and the brined lungs i want the bird-cry voice and the dull gritty crunch between teeth. i want the ocean on my canvas and i want it to feel like freedom i want the marsh grass scritch scratch grass and murky, boggy mud i want bird wings as delicate strokes small white dots that aren’t clouds pieces of sea foam detached from the sea free spirit and flashing, splashing silver wriggling and swimming and sparkling scales i want the underwater flight and the midair swimming floating through air or water, what’s the difference i want paint the color of the sky on a clear day the color of the wind rushing, roaring, blowing hair caught and flung like kite strings and the kite flutters away in the wings of the gulls i want the waves on the end of my paintbrush i want the ocean on my canvas i want a moving portrait of the sea.
  10. 1 point
    I love the intra-chapbook referencing idea. Also, I really like your intentions/interpretations of the Orion constellation/myth. As for the critiques, I am more than happy to help out. :) PSA to everyone: if y'all ever want critical, detailed feedback on your poems/fiction/writing, as demonstrated above, feel free to tag me and I shall provide. (I am also consistently thrilled to have my own work critiqued in a similar way, if anyone ever wants to do that.)
  11. 1 point
    it's a concept, the idea of 'donate to Science', it avoids the costs of congregational weeping, of black silk and sermons and organs and embalming and rain-spitting gusts against the backs of guests who gave up their sunday to watch hardwood reeled into 6x3 home-- instead, a hollow where mass mourning stood and the funeral home church pews line up empty and Science bows in thanks, its institutions, its formless conglomerate grateful
  12. 1 point
    Poetry influences: Susan Briante (her poem "Mother is Marxist" is one of the most brilliant things I've ever read; find it here: https://www.guernicamag.com/mother-is-marxist/); Andrea Gibson (check out "The Nutritionist"), William Evans ("Sickle"), Brenna Twohy ("Nearest Exit", which a group poem, but still), and so many other slam poets; and my friends and editors and classmates, who may not be published yet, but never fail to amaze. Fiction influences: Neil Gaiman (particularly Good Omens and American Gods), Margaret Atwood (Year of the Flood, especially), Barbara Kingsolver (Flight Behavior), and Ruth Ozeki (A Tale for the Time Being). Honestly, I think we're influenced by all the media we consume, so my influences are more or less what I read most. :P
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