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One Hundred Ninety-Two Kilometers of Grief by Carlo Baustista
Fandoms: Original Work
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23 Dec 2024
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23 Dec 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
P. 28
Ok I didn't check the index regarding whether this is an essay or a prose piece so I'm gambling on my bet that it's an essay WHICH IS REALLY FUCKING BONKERS because I wholly believed that it was fiction prose (lol) until I saw the highly specific course listing anecdote.
Edit: IT'S prose but also now I'm debating whether this is real or not <-- the same dilemma I faced whilst reading that Ocean Vuong book
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Band Aid by Jamie Shekinah Mapa
Fandoms: Original Work
This work isn't hosted on the Archive so this blurb might not be complete or accurate.
23 Dec 2024
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The Best Medicine by Aleena Marie Concepcion
Fandoms: Original Work
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23 Dec 2024
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I DO Love Lucy by Brooke Nicholas
Fandoms: Original Work
This work isn't hosted on the Archive so this blurb might not be complete or accurate.
23 Dec 2024
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23 Dec 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"Two days later, he called to clarify the messages. The messages were true, he explained, but in another way, they were false. He wouldn’t and he can’t act on those messages, he explained some more, and he might or might not act on them in the future. I sat on the loveseat that faces the chair for this conversation. I sat with my back to all the items I had rearranged or bargained with or sold off or given away as I navigated the space between the words typed and the words said out loud. Starcrossed, he said, and chaotic, he added, a decision I can’t make today, he apologized. I mentally filed everything back into their places as he talked and as I did this. I made sure not to touch the cameras."
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I Do by Sjohnna McCray
Fandoms: Original Work
This work isn't hosted on the Archive so this blurb might not be complete or accurate.
08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
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I Am Not a Myth by Matthew Hittinger
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"I wanted to be that trace of scarlet lipstick
when you arrived, tipsy, a bit chartreuse
a subdued platinum angel, a white minkstole. I am at heart—Come up for a drink—
a gentleman. You, a question here to seduce,
a pink thought traced by scarlet lipsticka deer drawn to a salt lick. I am the brick-
back, brick-thrown widow of a caboose.
I lift my black veil. I drop my black mink.""You call a cab and grab your white mink
while I play my saw, and all I can think
is I am not a myth a recluse who will recuse
you to remain a trace of scarlet lipstick
caught on the collar of a white mink." -
Tonight No Poetry Will Serve by Adrienne Rich
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
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Love Song for Love Songs by Rafael Campo
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
""No more I love you's," someone else assured
us, pouring out her heart, in love (of course)—
what bothers me the most is that high-pitched,
undone whine of "Why am I so alone?"
Such rueful misery is closer to
the truth, but once you turn the lamp down low,
you must admit that he is still the one,
and baby, baby he makes you so dumb
you sing in the shower at the top of your lungs." -
The Embrace by Mark Doty
Fandoms: Original Work
This work isn't hosted on the Archive so this blurb might not be complete or accurate.
08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"So when I saw your unguarded, reliable face,
your unmistakable gaze opening all the warmth
and clarity of —warm brown tea—we held
each other for the time the dream allowed.Bless you. You came back, so I could see you
once more, plainly, so I could rest against you
without thinking this happiness lessened anything,
without thinking you were alive again." -
Untitled [You did say, need me less and I'll want you more] by Marilyn Hacker
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
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The Hug by Thom Gunn
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
" It was not sex, but I could feel
The whole strength of your body set,
Or braced, to mine,
And locking me to you
As if we were still twenty-two
When our grand passion had not yet
Become familial.
My quick sleep had deleted all
Of intervening time and place.
I only knew
The stay of your secure firm dry embrace." -
While looking at photo albums by Kay Ulanday Barrett
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
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Shaking Hands by Pádraig Ó Tuama
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
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From “Elegy in Joy” by Muriel Rukeyser
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings.
Not all things are blest, but the
seeds of all things are blest.
The blessing is in the seed.This moment, this seed, this wave of the sea, this look, this instant of love.
Years over wars and an imagining of peace. Or the expiation journey
toward peace which is many wishes flaming together,
fierce pure life, the many-living home.
Love that gives us ourselves, in the world known to all
new techniques for the healing of the wound,
and the unknown world. One life, or the faring stars.:...
THE new year's poem
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Vaccinated by Jericho Brown
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
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September 23, 2016 by Rachel Mennies
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"When did you first know you were bisexual?
I will never know how the pleasure I give feels as a body receives it.
I fear strangers, Naomi, even the ones I love. I count their turned backs on the subway.
Some nights I fear even the subway itself—or is it my reflection in the yellowed glass, how I cannot see the city moving beyond me?
I want each round mirror to open as a window might.
Perhaps I always knew, but I mistrusted my knowing. I once stacked my journals to the height of a beloved and embraced them."
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Maine Yet Miami by Richard Blanco
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"Even though I marvel over spring’s abracadabra each time
my lilac blooms appear, I still disappear back
into the magic of summer nights on the porch,
the moon lighting up my grandfather’s stories
about his lost Cuba, his words carried away
with the smoke of his tabaco and the scent
of his jasmine tree flowering the night with
its tiny, perfumed stars.""Despite the daystars peeking behind the lavender clouds swaddling mountain peaks in my window at sunset, I still
rise to the sun of my youth over the sea, after
a night’s sleep on a bed of sand, dreaming or
dreading who I would, or wouldn’t become.""After all the meatloafs and apple pies we’ve baked
in our kitchen, I still sit down to the memory
of my mother’s table, savoring the loss of her
onion-smothered vaca frita and creamy flan.
No matter how tastefully my throw pillows
perfectly match my chic rugs and the stylish
art on my walls, it all falls apart sometimes,
just as I do, until I remember to be the boy
I was, always should be, playing alone with
his Legos in the family room, still enchanted
by the joy of his sheer self and his creations:
perfect or not, beautiful or not, immortal or
as mortal as the plentiful life I’ve made here,
although I keep living with my father dying
in our old house, his head cradled in my hand
for a sip of tea and a kiss on his forehead—
our last goodbye in the home that still lives
within this home where I live on to die, too."--
From AtP
"As a child of Cuban exiles and a gay man, themes of place, belonging, and identity are at the heart of all my poems—in one way or another. I grew up in Miami and lived in my same childhood home until I was 30 years old. Those natural, cultural, and emotional landscapes have had a profound and lasting effect on me and my work. Even though I’ve been living in Maine for ten-years—and love my life here—at times I still feel displaced and find myself drifting back to Miami—to that proverbial sense of 'home' we all have, and which lives on and on in our psyche."- Richard Blanco
..
I fucked up the formatting real bad LOL but it's a good one
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Belt Is Just Another Verb for Song by torrin a. greathouse
Fandoms: Original Work
This work isn't hosted on the Archive so this blurb might not be complete or accurate.
08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"I’ve been searching the backs of lover’s hands
for a kinder score, a pain that makesmy pain a stranger tune. Still, my body aches
an ugly psalm. All my bones refuse to harm-onize. Percussion is our oldest form of song,
wind bruised into melody. Let me say this plainly:I want you to beat me
into a pain that’s unfamiliar. How convenient
this word, beat, that lives in both the kingdomsof brutality & song. The singer’s voice: a cry,
a moan, god’s name broken across a bladeof teeth. The riding crop & flog & scourge—
a wicked faith. A blood-loud devotion." -
Pulling the Moon by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo
Fandoms: Original Work
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08 Sep 2024
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08 Sep 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
"I imagine pulling the moon.
I imagine pulling the moon out of his brow.Pulling the moon out of his brow and eating it again.
Eating and pulling his hair in silence.
A kind of silence when the moon goes out.When the moon goes back and forth between us.
A kind of silence lit for only a moment.
Seeing for a moment through the eyes of the horse." -
Closest Without Going Over by Annie DeWitt
Fandoms: Original Work
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02 Sep 2024
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02 Sep 2024
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"That summer I’d begun to have the feeling I was disappearing. I’d had this feeling once when I was in college. A professor had asked me to start off a workshop with comments on a young woman’s story about Florida. The story ended with the woman’s dog drowning. Her retriever descended paw-over-paw to the bottom of her in-ground pool. The dog’s body was discovered by her husband the next morning. The story was always punctuated by lines like: “Summer scratched her head and the ships went out to bay.” I had had enough stories about women named Summer in Florida and their dogs. I’d gone to school with them."
"(...) What mattered to me was the private space between people, the length of bedsheet between you and the person with whom you shared your luck at the end of the day. That, I thought, was where you could measure how chosen you’d been by love or lust or something that lifted you up outside of yourself and made you forget life as others lived it."
"I look over at Rocket now in the tub across from me. He looks like someone I know from the television, a glowing hologram radiating his own distinct light. “Come on down,” the Barker calls out. I watch from my seat as Rocket bounds through the aisle toward the stage.
On stage, there is a woman displaying a showcase. “Life,” it says. The showcase looks like nothing I’d imagined. What I see is threads of longing. A little girl planting some beans. A man holding his own head. David Bowie is playing in the background: No one ever saw you. Moving through the dark. Leaving slips of paper somewhere in the park. Hidden from your friends. Stealing all they knew. Lovers thrown in airless rooms then vile rewards for you.
As Rocket disappears into the showcase, I feel my voice rising. This is the sound I was waiting to make. "