#POEM: War of the Foxes

[sikenarthistory]

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, cropped viewing of Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld (1861) / Richard Siken, War of the Foxes (2015)

#Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot #Jean Baptiste Camille Corot #Richard Siken #POEM: War of the Foxes

[luthienne]

jack gilbert, “islands and figs” / richard siken, “the worm king’s lullaby”

#jack gilbert #collected poems of jack gilbert #islands and figs #richard siken #war of the foxes #the worm king’s lullaby #words #poetry #typography #parallels

[metamorphesque]

Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light, Richard Siken

[text ID: How much can you change / and get away with it, / before you turn into / something else, / before it's some kind of / murder?]

#richard siken #selfhood #poem #poetry #portrait of fryderyk in shifting light #war of the foxes #literature #quotes

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Violet Piper Twenty-Four, Candidly (via @voicedwords) // Richard Siken in an interview with Green Linden Press

#on fathers #web weave #poetry compilation #poetry parallels #violet piper #candidly #richard siken #war of the foxes #writing #poem #spilled ink #dark academia #dark academia poetry #spilled poetry #words #spilled thoughts #dark academia quote #poetry #web weaving

[myfakeplasticlove13]

#on love #on devotion #poetry #words #quotes #poetry compilation #web weave #web weaving #poem #writing #thoughts #richard siken #crush #phoebe bridgers #motion sickness #war of the foxes

[newvision]

— Richard Siken, from ‘Birds Hover the Trampled Field’ in War of the Foxes

#wanted to use a bone saw on my skull so naturally I started rereading Siken #some poems will haunt me forever #Richard siken #crush #war of the foxes #poetry #queer poetry #queer books #queer lit #queer literature #american poetry #american lit #american literature #mine

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

You Believe You're Guiltless

Cut - Catherine Lacey / Father - The Front Bottoms / It Lingers For Your Whole Life - Katie Maria (@heavensghost) / Jenny Holzer / Jenny Holzer / War Of The Foxes - Richard Siken

#mine #can't forget can't let go #web weaving #cut #Catherine Lacey #father #the front bottoms #tfb #It lingers for your whole life #Katie Maria #jenny holzer #war of the foxes #richard siken #guiltless #dodie #lyrics #music #poem #poetry #literature #♡

[memoriesofthingspast]

richard siken; war of the foxes

#poem #poetry #words #art #dark academia #light academia #rhetoric #richard siken #war of the foxes #siken war #siken #language #peace

[reachthezeneth]

I follow you

#lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen #richard siken #war of the foxes #i posted this bc i keep seeing people post it with other rs poems but I'm like !!!! pls !! the poem he's talking about!!!!! #hiding in each otherrrrrr plssss #this whole passage! this whole poem! this whole book!

[invisiblemonstrosity]

three proofs - richard siken // night time in wyoming- frank tenney johnson

#yeah #just read war of foxes #it was good and it was pain :) #edit #frank tenney johnson #art #painting #cowboys #horses #night time in Wyoming #aesthetic #aes #poetry #poem #poet #richard silken #war of foxes #three proofs #words #lit #literature #typo #typography

[beaft]

Richard Siken, The Language of the Birds

#every time i read his poems a new and different line hits me in the chest #be shh now #richard siken #war of the foxes

[aemperatrix]

Richard Siken

#richard siken #poetry #scheherazade #poem #cuvinte potrivite #pe roșu aprins #yes yes i'm roughly the 685498652589623rd person to post this poem. i know. #but i realized i haven't read war of the foxes and thought i'd re-read crush before I do just as a treat and man oh man. Oh Man. #what an opener this is

[kaycassians]

History is written by the winners. Everyone knows this. It’s an old story, one that’s as long as the Empire’s shadow. There is no point in telling a different story. They all end the same.

Let me tell you a story about losing:

On a toxic, abandoned mining planet, a group of children burn bodies. The youngest of them take the clothes to wash and the oldest of them take the weapons to keep and they all burn the rest. While the fire burns, most children cry. A boy, still stuck in the middle between too young and not old enough learns a trick to stop. He curls his fingers into fists and grits his teeth. He hides his eyes behind his forearm and stays very still.

This boy has a sister, a young sister. She washes soot from clothes that are too big for her and watches the oldest take up the weapons and burn the rest. She does not understand, so she does not cry. When her brother stays very still and covers his eyes, she holds his hand.

“This is not a new story,” says one pilot to another.

“No,” agrees the other. “But it’s only the beginning.” 

History is written by the winners. Everyone knows this. Everyone also knows by winners, they mean survivors. It’s an old story, one that’s as long as the Empire’s shadow. There is no point in telling a different story. All different stories are buried with the dead.

Let me tell you a story about survivors:

An imperial ship crashes on a toxic, abandoned mining planet, and a scavenger and her husband find an intact starpath-unit and a frightened boy. The boy wears clothes that are too big for him and holds a weapon that he doesn’t know how to use. The scavenger knows that the intact starpath-unit is worth more than anything she’s ever owned. The scavenger also knows that the frightened boy is worth no more than the food it’ll cost her to feed him. 

Neither is hers to take. 

The scavenger is selfish. She steals both.  

“This is the same story,” says one pilot to the other.  

“No,” says the other. “This is the rest of the story.”  

History is written by the survivors. Everyone knows this. Everyone also knows by written, they mean the ones who wrote it down, not who witnessed it. Witnesses are easy to silence, especially when under the Empire’s long, dark shadow. There is no point in telling a different story. Not unless you want to be silenced too. 

Let me tell you a story about fear: 

A man on Morlana One kills two corporate security guards looking for his sister, his missing sister. This is not a new story. The man knows how this will end. The long, dark shadow of the Empire looms over him. He is the next witness to be silenced, and he knows it. His life will end as it began-- silently, with no one around to care that he was there in the first place. 

His life will end as it began-- already forgotten. 

The man tries to run. Tries to get his affairs in order. He gets an alibi from a friend, but it’s useless. He still needs credits for his mother. He has time to sell something, he has to. He needs something to leave his mother when he’s gone. 

In an abandoned warehouse, a man out of options meets a buyer with a way out. 

In an abandoned warehouse, a spymaster finds the perfect recruit. 

History is written by the controllers. Everyone knows this. Control the story and you control what everyone thinks about the story. This is an old practice, one utilized again and again to keep the shadow of the Empire standing tall. There is no point in telling a different story. They’ll all be forgotten anyway. 

Let me tell you a story about stories: 

The Dhani people have always told legends. Oral traditions, passed down from generation to generation. Never written down, and never forgotten. 

Recently, the Dhanis have a new legend to tell. It’s the story of the ship that flew into the centre of the Eye. As it goes, the crew were valiant fighters set on chasing away the Darkness that had laid claim to the land. But alas, the Dark’s grip was strong. It poisoned the minds of the invaders, and bid them to build a wall around the planet’s Light, trapping it under metal and steel. 

It was said that nothing could escape the Dark’s sinister fort. But the fighters were sneaky. They crept their way into the Dark’s ranks, feigning to be just like the invaders, and stole the Light right from under the Dark’s nose, and let it free back into the sky. 

Fleeing the wicked grasp of the Dark, the fighters called out to the Eye for help. The Eye, overjoyed to be reunited with the Light, saw them. 

It granted their wish, and turned the fighters into shooting stars.  

It’s said you can still see them up there, when the light is right. Always running, always slipping out of the grasp of the Dark, forever immortalized in the sky. 

History is written by the controllers. Everyone knows this. Control the story and you control what everyone thinks about the story. This is an old practice, one utilized again and again to keep the shadow of the Empire standing tall. There is a problem with this thinking, and the problem that arises is this: 

The controllers can only control the stories they can hear. 

“Eighty million credits,” marvels one imperial officer to the other. “That’s not true. It can’t be.”

“It is,” says the other. She carefully keeps her smile off her face. “I was there.”

Let me tell you a story about rumors: 

They have to start somewhere.

Let me tell you a story that is true: 

Eighty million galactic credits were stolen from the Imperial garrison on Aldhani, right under the officers’ noses. No one knows who it was or how they did it. 

But they did it.  

“Eighty million credits,” marvels a retired scavenger with a smile. “Imagine that.” 

Let me tell you a story about change: 

It starts small. Only whispered about in small dark rooms between people without faces. Like a flower it blooms in the minds of men, women and even children-- all of whom dream of breaking free of the dark. All of whom dream of looking up to see a sky full of stars instead of a black, long shadow. 

But, then again, it's not a problem if you don't look up.  

Let me tell you a story about beginnings:

The story of the rebels who were both mad enough and brave enough to stand up against the Empire spreads like wildfire. And one day, someone decides to look up at the sky instead of at their shoes, and sees them. 

Seven tiny, insignificant shooting stars, fighting back against the Dark. 

Let me tell you a story about seeds:  

Once they’re planted, they’ll never do anything but grow. 

Let me tell you a story about inspiration: 

It gets people standing up. 

Let me tell you a story that is true: 

We are stronger together. 

Let me tell you a story that is true: 

This is our chance to make a real difference. 

Let me tell you a story that is true:

The time to fight is now.

Let me tell you a story about hope: 

It’s what rebellions are built on. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” says one pilot to the other. 

“Yes,” says the other. He carefully keeps his smile off his face. “Yes we are.” 

#format is heavily inspired by War of the Foxes by Richard Siken #highly reccomend that poem. it'll change your brain chemistry #andor #andor spoilers #star wars #my fic

[metamorphesque]

— Birds Hover The Trampled Field, Richard Siken

#richard siken #quotes #literature #poems #poetry #war of the foxes #desire #yearnin #dark academia

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Cameron Awkward-Rich THEORY OF MOTION (4): ANOTHER MIDDLE-CLASS BLACK KID TRIES TO NAME IT (via @sweatermuppet) // Wayne Koestenbaum "Figure;" My 1980s and Other Essays // Mary Lambert "Why I Slept With Makeup on for Five Years;" Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across // Keaton St. James DYSPHORIA CREEK // Richard Siken "Birds Hover the Trampled Field;" War of the Foxes (via @newvision) // Greta Moran Slow First

#body horror but in a trans way #on self #poetry compilation #poetry parallels #web weave #web weaving #cameron awkward rich #theory of motion: another middle-class black kid tries to name it #wayne koestenbaum #my 1980s and other essays #mary lambert #shame is an ocean i swim across #keaton st james #dysphoria creek #richard siken #war of the foxes #greta moran #slow first #poem #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #writing #dark academia poetry #dark academia #dark academia quote #words #poetry #spilled feelings #spilled words

[myfakeplasticlove13]

Love as religion

#love poem #on love #yearning #webweaving #web weave #richard siken #on devotion #love as religion #words #poetry compilation #poetry #love quotes #war of the foxes #on desire