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Suzanne Rivecca, Ugly Bitter and True

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me :3

#picture #edited

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land of honey

here is an ode to all those south of the mason-dixon line, on either side of the grand mississippi

i like the taste of wild honeysuckle, smell of maturing magnolias. there's warm spring days, with rolling thunderstorms at night, sidewalks still wet the next morning

there's ladies with big hair, bigger weddings, inviting hald the town to watch you say "i love you i do I'll always love you"

neighbors gossip, hushed whispers and giggles, i like small talk with people in line at the grocery store, asking if they like that brand of bug spray

a cacophany of cicadas at night, whippoorwills and chick-a-dee-dee-dees, lullabies of croaking bullfrogs

i like faded churches on the side of single lane roads, you know they used to be just one big dusty room and i guess they always will be

i like red crosses and soup kitchens, storm shelters and booster drives

thanks for the casserole when my aunt died

i like peach cobbler, chess pie, country fried steak, loads of butter and eggs and flour and sugar

tea so sweet your mouth puckers, boiled peanuts sold from the side of the road, only $1.50 and you get free directions to the waterfall

i even like the people who hunt, i do. especially the ones who use all of the animal, who thank the deer for passing quickly and for gifting them a glorious dinner

the people who give antlers to their dogs

i like old women with hair so white its blue, with a smoker's rasp, with metallic lipstick and starched blouses, patent leather shoes and big red pocketbooks

i like driving through marshes and fields, cow pastures and blue ridge mountains, creeks falling to forests growing to gardens

i like square dancing, and slow dancing even more, and the little dark raves tucked in corners of empty downtowns filled with everyone like you

i like bluegrass and blues, jazz on corners in the french quarter, zydeco in acadiana, yes even country, i like singing country on the porch

i like slow guitar and crooning melodies of heartbreak and first love, of missing mom and hating dad

i like old faded trucks, the ones low to the ground without big engines, i like train tracks overrun with weeds

i like mardi gras, flashing beads thrown in smoky air, feathered up floats, stereos turned loud

i like the hundreds of peachtree streets and dozens of martin luther king jr. boulevards

there's buford highway, where you can eat food from every corner of the globe and still be right at home

pass by billboards in korean, spanish, english, all in three square miles

i like drag queens in sunday best, the same florals my grandmother likes

i like straw hats and creased-up boots, i like paper fans exchanged from hand to hand

i like hearing "yall stay safe now" i like how everyone is honey and baby and sweetheart, even if you've never met

i love you trailer park beauties

stay true, hillbilly rednecks

#southern gothic #the south #georgia #louisiana #alabama #mississippi #south carolina #north carolina #poetry #poem #spilled ink #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #spilled prose #work in progress #wip #hometown #small town america #vintage americana #small town #gas station

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on the radio

in one ear is your voice

talking about the good old days

always about the past

i've heard this story before.

in the other ear is a warm rush of wind

too hot to be refreshing

just enough to be forgiving.

i have vertigo staring into the moon

#poetry #poem #spilled ink #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #work in progress #creative writing #wip

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we’ve made it past the equinox, mold the day with your bare hands.

barbara crooker, anna akhmatova, mervyn peake, mary szybist, vedovamazzei

#poetry #poem #web weaving #collage #mary szybist #barbara crooker #anna akhmatova #mervyn peake

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2000 years of love is a mass of ice melting

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valentine’s comedown

josé olivarez, joan larkin, alex dimitrov, lucia restrepo bralley

#valentines day #february #vintage #sonic youth #kim gordon #jose olivarez #joan larkin #alex dimitrov #web weaving #poetry #spilled ink #poem #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #collage

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I am my father’s daughter - I only know how to let people take

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I put my head inside it, I put my heart beside it. oil painting, 9x12 inches 2024. this one is part of my contribution to the group show 'beautful mutants' at Brassworks Gallery here in Portland. show opens this saturday, feb 10th, 5-9pm <3

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a draft

#poetry #spilled ink #poem #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr

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kinder than man, althea davis

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twitter / instagram

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Greetings from Antarctica

It’s all light all around

Blinding, numbing brilliance

The wind is soft razors and anonymous whispers

There is no ending just endlessness

The world is a vacuum here

No smell or sound or touch

I want to hug something and feel their bones crush mine

It’s heaven, real heaven

Where you’re weightless and delirious

I’m surrounded by slowly falling snowflakes

Soon to be angels

I can’t see for miles

Or maybe I can

It’s getting hard to tell

I just wanted to say

I can’t stop thinking of you

#poetry #spilled ink #poem #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #winter #arctic exploration #antarctica #snow #seasons

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TV Man

The TV used to buzz and hum

I touched its face and felt peach fuzz

I touched its head and felt bleeding warmth

It touched me back with static spark

Your TV used to take a punch

you could hug it

and feel the frame press into your shoulders

biting back

The TV held crackling fire

And rumbling thunder

My TV was a mirror, it was a hole

Our TV had its own room

It had a face and heart and veins

Look at it too long your eyes burn

We used to escape into the night together

I’d creep out down the dark hallway

And kneel at its threshold

Now my walls are bare

#poetry #spilled ink #poem #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #television #tv

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winter log

it’s a dark day

we used to have dark nights

but like molasses, like infection, like tea leaves

the shadows have seeped closer and closer

i always forget how dry the world gets

my face peels off in layers

i can’t sing in the car anymore

nails bit down to the quick

and they won’t grow back

winter is for sleeping in your childhood bed

tossing and turning all night

everything old is new again

my mom looks at me

and i only see my eyes staring back

swaddle me, i’m your baby

put me down like a dog

bury me in the backyard

maybe i’ll grow up this time

#poetry #spilled ink #poem #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #home #mother #oldest daughter #being human #childhood #tw depressing thoughts

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what’s long-dead and buried

jihyun yun, tess gallagher, wes anderson - isle of dogs, @sleepycorvid(twitter)

#poetry #spilled ink #poem #web weaving #new poets club #original poetry #collage #jihyun yun #tess gallagher #wes anderson #isle of dogs

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Children's Letters to God