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Henry Scott Tuke - Sleeping Sailor (1905)

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the two headed calf smoking twice as many marlboro red core packs as usual

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M.C. Escher - Rind (1955)

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desire is such a gay name for a streetcar

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"Blorbo from my shows" no. Blorbo from my BA. Blorbo from my major. Blorbo from my primary source document.

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Cecily Brown, Have You Ever Been?, 2011

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cecily brown on the rainbow

the splendid table \ darling \ can can \ the cutter \ untitled (shipwreck) \ nocturne in blue \ ?? \ untitled

kofi

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JANE BIRKIN is dead JOAN DIDION is dead and ME i feel also not so good

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Hecatomb

You spoke of a spiritual hecatomb The sacrifice of one hundred oxen Offered to the Oracle The god of truth Poetry and music You spoke of a song The children’s crusade Death and the mountain Helicoidally spliced Now we the worthless Unsolicited revelators Overturn all tables Cash in our chips And speak of this Infiltration Canonization Apocalyptic celebration We spit seed scrub hands Sprinkle barley meal pray Before the altar of your tome The world that is all worlds And the broken lyre of Apollo And slaughter’s curving saw We speak of the iron circle A holy hecatomb in your name Though not butchered all at once Methodically three-minute intervals A finale of one hundred fireworks Slowed down shot off one at a time So the spectators astonished mouth Remains open for as long as it takes As for the oxen figure 3 x 100 A rite of three hundred minutes A poem of perpetual death Trumping the Greeks In the precinct of the Muse These oxen are as birds Transitive barely rehearsed Long legged grey as elephants With sad spasmodic gestures Each a poem spread eagle With a multicolored skirt Hiked over the face Wrapped in the wings Of swollen laughter These oxen are babes Wallowing in the dust Pining the woodcutter Whose axe was alive Their tears evaporate Like sweat on the back Of the neck of a laborer From the southern border Where there are no borders Where bards and assassins Scrape encrypted soles Of incriminating shoes And crumbling hearts Write of your St. Teresa A city shaped like a dress Pierced at the breast Dripping wands of blood A retablo of sacred laundry White limbs white feet Skipping indiscreet fires Pale hide swaddled thigh Quivering upon a spit Beneath the moon lamp A spreading horn sounds We are slaves reborn The lowing of oxen Strung as a menagerie About a giant’s throat We are his proud head Bursting like a bubble In a golden syringe We are oxen of the sun Tossing burning shirts Upon the gravest course A poet’s coat is skin With pockets of chasm Lined in iambic verse His knife is a toy Spiraling the universe Tagging a curving sky A trilogy of numbers Sealing a wired skull He expands his bony torso Dives the lifeblood pond Unleashing for all time A hundred laurel wreaths And your body conjured Raise your crosspiece Rise through the center Dance upon the water A slow tempo dance Quaking the earth With your ecstatic fury

© Patti Smith 2016

Drawings by Jose Antonio Suarez Londono

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Ophelia by Jean-Baptiste Bertrand (1872)

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Definitions belong to the definers, not the defined.

Beloved by Toni Morrison

#this was the basis of my final project for an english class this semester #along with an article about pain and the unmaking of the self in beloved #very fun

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goodreads is a cursed place somehow every book that i think sucks ass has a 4.5 average rating and then every book that's like a culturally relevant classic that made important contributions to its genre has like a 2.5 and a million one star reviews calling it pretentious, overrated and stupid. genuinely who are you people

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Every story starts with a woman eating what she’s not supposed to. But it’s not really about the eating- every story starts with a woman’s mouth. Every story starts with the horrible, terrifying, conquering hunger of women. Do you understand? It’s about feminine hunger- it’s about fulfilling feminine hunger, its about how hunger is sex, it’s about women and how there’s nothing more terrifying then a women who conquers a man.

#!!!!

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Coffee and studying 💻 📚 ☕.

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imagine it being 1963 and you turn on the radio one day and suddenly every song is about surfing. for some reason. I mean they rock but what the fuck.