the best poems fall in that space between praying and horny. Donne was a master of that. This is his best one.
šš§āāļøāā”ļø
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for youĀ
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;Ā
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bendĀ
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.Ā
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,Ā
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;Ā
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,Ā
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.Ā
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,Ā
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;Ā
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,Ā
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,Ā
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,Ā
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.Ā
Aug 6, 2024
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š«
My four chambered friend writ across stolen paper
your red walls pulsing in my hands
with a song so loud, so salty sweet,
my lover to devour
in the afternoon
up three thousand steps,
poetry on company time,
secrets held close to the chest
like playing cards,
nine of hearts
in my arsenal
like a cat falling from the roof eight times into oblivion
I save my ace.
Iām a hunk holding a hunk,
Iām Casanova
and I really want to know you,
Iām a heart throb
on a mission.
My star across the sky and on a waiting list
a meteor patiently in line at the self checkout,
with a fistful of ibuprofen
and a need to speed
right into my bed.
Answer my emails from between silk sheets
with a rose between my teeth.
Leak your devotion all over my best shirt
on Mondays
my love,
come apart in my hands,
melt into a silky hot drink
for me to guzzle.
Beat like a drum for me only,
my ever-marching accomplice,
you complete me.
Let me crawl into you
and take solace there
Iāll eat you from the inside out,
melt your walls down with my hands
and leave no residue.
May 13, 2024
š
The Fury of Cocks
There they are
drooping over the breakfast plates,
angel-like,
folding in their sad wing,
animal sad,
and only the night before
there they were
playing the banjo.
Once more the day's light comes
with its immense sun,
its mother trucks,
its engines of amputation.
Whereas last night
the cock knew its way home,
as stiff as a hammer,
battering in with all
its awful power.
That theater.
Today it is tender,
a small bird,
as soft as a baby's hand.
She is the house.
He is the steeple.
When they fuck they are God.
When they break away they are God.
When they snore they are God.
In the morning they butter the toast.
They don't say much.
They are still God.
All the cocks of the world are God,
blooming, blooming, blooming
into the sweet blood of woman.
Oct 30, 2023
š
straight from the goat himself, that boy was locked tf in
Shall I compare thee to a summerās day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summerās lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or natureās changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owāst;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderāst in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growāst:
Ā Ā Ā So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
Ā Ā Ā So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Mar 13, 2024
Top Recs from @florinegrassenhopper
ā°
No screen Sundays. If I want to listen to music its CDs or radio. If I want to watch a movie, no I donāt. If I want to see a friend, I will make plans with them on Friday or Saturday to meet up. As a result, I read more, write more, and sit with questions like ādid Citizen Kaneās 50 year winning streak in the Sight and Sound critics choice survey end in 2012 or 2022? When did Stephen Merritt come out? Whats the etymology of Whitsun?ā
This is something that I have practiced off and on for many years but Iāve been doing it every week since December and I love the way that it just allows me one day of true freedom and rest.
Jan 22, 2025
Mar 3, 2025
My calendar this year has 52 of these week at a glance pages but I donāt think that way. So, I've been inspired by Ross Gayās Book of Delighs to start recording the little moments and sensations that bring me joy throughout the day. An analog pi.fyi, if you will.
heres some of what I have so far:
- Waking up to the sound of my upstairs neighborās footstep. It sounded nostalgic. Felt like company.
- Strawberry jam
- feeling tender for strangers: their lips, nail colors, their small wrists. Thinking of all the lives we hold gently.
- A young girl bought an LP at the bookstore just before I left. She stroked its cover with love
- Green tiles āthe mint shade always makes me think of Jancie
- Charlieās little bop and punch dancing to some German language punk
- lunch with Katherine, curry Brussels sprouts
- small talk at the photo studio. The photographer's brother was named after their dad, stole his identity, bought jet skis.
Jan 13, 2025