#Tamiko Beyer

[nataliewaitegf]

oh my god it’s february by tamiko beyer day

#this is one of my most favorite poems ever i can’t believe i forgot #🤍 #poetry #tamiko beyer

[blackberryjam]

tamiko beyer, tankas for what comes together

#poetry #tamiko beyer #🤍

[violettesiren]

Our eyes bend what they cannot see. The end of deepest winter.

I suspect things are growing again. After sleeping soundly for centuries, muddy buds are pushing into the crunch of air.

Will we miss the deep freeze? The sound of snow falling on snow?

Many days I start off as you and end leagues away.

Is it my ambiguous skin? Not human, not amphibian, not fowl, not insect, but mammal.

And what of the cyber creatures?

Of the people, we say. A casing as bright as a beetle of yore. What it means to never be alone again.

Imagine the ancient scientists in their white coats standing forever with hands behind their backs. Heads bowed in prayer or punishment. Either way, we’re their splayed creation myth—hubris or bridge.

A whole planet of things to restore or discard, swirling in currents, washing up into caves.

All day, I waited for the light to hit just so. Rib bones, aluminum, rebar. Waited for a sign—what to do with this inheritance.

Did we ask for such patience, such flight?

All day, I watched the flowers turn their new faces to the old sun. That’s devotion. Or maybe instinct. Have we learned the difference?

The sex of flowers undoes me. Such delicate anatomy.

I want to be fingers not folded but crane. I want to be salt to your kingdom. I will be bird to your wire.

Birds of a Feather by Tamiko Beyer

#tamiko beyer

[andreablythe]

Culture Consumption: November 2023

Hi, lovelies. Here’s my month in books, television, and games. Books “The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.” Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus…

View On WordPress

#book love #books #Destiny Hemphill #Erin Morgenstern #games #Lisbeth White #Tamiko Beyer #television

[willowstreetstories]

Mizuame a zuihitsu

When it finally rained again, the hydrangea bowled and bowed to the black dirt. Its flowers painted by drought, soil acidity, condensation.

The sweets are kept on ice: a single sour plum encased in clear sugar syrup, clean as rain on the tongue.

Say a word and watch it evaporate.

I cannot keep myself together. Limbs dissolving in the rain. My bright red center pumping, while this mask and that name slip away.

There is a country of temples, mud, and blackboards. That’s where I left my tongue. I wanted reckoning. I got a woman drenched from a sudden storm.

When all you lick all the sugar away, the plum will sit on your tongue. Smooth. Hard. Resourceful.

Originally published in Dovetail (Slapering Hol Press, 2017).

#tamiko beyer #zuihitsu #poetry

[hyejungkook]

I’m absolutely delighted to have Poetry as Spellcasting in my hands! I’m so grateful to editors Tamiko Beyer, Lisbeth White, and Destiny Hemphill for including me in this gorgeous anthology, and for helping my essay become more fully realized, more deeply itself.

And while I haven’t finished the book yet, I think the power of the writing is enabling precisely that sort of transformation, helping us perceive potential and cast off constraints so that we can all be more gloriously ourselves and make the world a more beautiful and just place to exist. Just take a look at the opening of the first poem of the collection, “Awakening of Stones: Hypothesis/Central Argument” by Lisbeth White:

In the new mythology, you are always whole.

If and when you fracture, it is not apart.

Apart does not exist here.

You will know that upon entry.

You will know each fissure as it breaks open your life.

You will know the cracked edges of your splendor.

I hope you will consider buying (or borrowing!) a copy and also joining us for the virtual launch on Wednesday, May 24th, 8 PM ET, featuring Destiny Hemphill, Lisbeth White, Tamiko Beyer, Amir Rabiyah, Ching-In Chen, Lou Flores, yours truly, Sun Yung Shin, and Tatiana Figueroa Ramirez.

We will also be casting a collective poem/spell for the protection and fortification of forest defenders and organizers of Stop Cop City. Bring a candle, a cup of tea, and your tarot deck if you can!

Link to free eventbrite tickets.

#poetry #publication #essay #PoetryAsSpellcasting #writerslife #pubday #poetsofinstagram #booklaunch

[verseberger]

[Preface: So many images in this piece feel so far off and yet so close by. That’s the magic of the poem. Tell me your favorite image in the comments!]

This week’s poem is “February” by Tamiko Beyer. Call 401-900-1090 to listen. Recordings stay up for one week, after which time they disappear like softened breath.

#poetry #public libraries

[cosmicmote]

Tonight in Momentum

a few words in Momentum Writer, tonight. was hoping to make this more of a regular thing, but distractions are what they are. I bought a book the other day, that's far more of a regular thing and too much so really, I'll never have time to read them all but it's good for the economy not that billionaires care about such things or us. I bought a book the other day, it was on sale at least and called Poetry As Spellcasting which has three authors listed on the front cover, Tamiko Beyer, Destiny Hemphill and Lisbeth White, and even before I started reading it today I was thinking that there is a big difference between kids and adults and mush of it lies in the accumulation of -isms and it's all so loud, bright red to hot pink, and many kids are eligible for senior discounts at breakfast now. The term immature is often used, probably too much, but terms like malmature likewise too often have never really taken hold. Malingering words fit for a malformed world in stead. Growing up I had a fixation on sickles, for a short time. They're more than a decoration, or symbolism, when they're put to good use. Misfits. Function. Language is art. Art is magick. Art is functional. Functionality is magick. How much does it have to do with you. Mechanisms of defense and creativity are their own worlds. The book reads like a string of egos with their falsified histories, more than a how to, so far. The bibles are full of this stuff. Boomer and Psychick some what less so. Mythology. Turned pre-modern identity politics and commodified narratives. We know and get where it comes from. The sources ain't monolithic. Lindbergh's war time diaries were insightful, part of me wishes I had the time to reread. Living history, destroyed. Malconnections. My plate is already full. My focus is here, how many seconds into the past is every look in the mirror. How do they add up. It's not so much what the books tell us, and much hasn't been left unsaid. Perhaps erase, a living Nakba, from a simulacra eternal. We do wonderings. So I write. I paint. I doodle. I type. & here I am. & here I am. & here I am.

Wonder less.

graphic and words ©spacetree 2023

#artists on tumblr #spilled thoughts #my writing #poetry #spilled poetry

[andirectearly]

Nỗi đau buồn ngấm thấu xương ta, từng làn hơi thở đượm vị tang thương. Xương tủy hay chăng những cái hít thở ta chìm trong cơn thịnh nộ.

⎯  Tamiko Beyer, “We Are Bodies in Bodies We Are Stars”, Last Days.

Bản dịch thuộc về @annabethforsoul

#tamikobeyer #life quote

[lifeinpoetry]

I vow / a ravenous undoing. / I vow to love the fire always

— Tamiko Beyer, from “I Vow To Be the Small Flame,” Last Days

#quote #Tamiko Beyer #poetry #Last Days #out of my collection #I Vow To Be the Small Flame

[cmacaulays]

— Tamiko Beyer, “Equinox”

#poetry #poem #tamiko beyer #quote #dark academia #litblr #mine

[nataliewaitegf]

tamiko beyer, february

#🤍 #poetry #tamiko beyer #scheduling this for feb so i don’t forget bc it’s one of my most fav poems ever

[blackberryjam]

which 6 poems would you want to memorize? do you like sandwiches? what hobby do you dislike? do you say hi to bugs or do you ignore them? who are your favorite characters from any media? 🧐 (p.s. i love you (p.p.s. hope you feel better 💓🥺 (p.p.p.s. here's a flower or a few 🌷💐 (p.p.p.p.s. hiiii 💗👋😔))))

1. february (tamiko beyer), mountain dew commercial disguised as a love poem (matthew olzmann), rain (raymond carver), meditations in an emergency (cameron awkward-rich), winter morning (james crews), the thing is (ellen bass)

2. sometimes but ONLY pb&j or pb&h . every other kind is bad

3. SAY HI u have to say hi it’s polite they are just little guys !!!!

4. nell (haunting of hill house) + ella (ella enchanted) + sam (lord of the rings) <3 my beloveds

#hiiiii i love you thank u !!!!!!! 💖 #antihero #ask

[violettesiren]

Let go, says the hawk. Let go, says the dirt; let go, say the vines that wrap tight to become protective skin.

Become another heart beating counter rhythm, become an extra spleen for mysterious functions

of filter. A month ago, light balanced on the edge of dark in equal distribution. We lifted our palms up.

Now, we move slowly toward the solstice. Then, we will move slowly away. The branches are thin, dark, newly liberated from their leaves. The flash in the morning fog might be a cardinal or a siren in the distance—a marking

of this world where light is something we calibrate closely. I have come into forty, softer than at twenty, stronger than at thirty.

The world’s injustice still clashing with my deepest convictions. Every day I do the only work I know—small shifts

in the balance of power. Again and again, hard and joyful, the only way toward change. Every night

I kiss the woman I can’t get enough of. We move toward the sun and away from the sun.

Toward light, away from light, elliptical, steady, bound and unbound.

Creatures of Hurt and Heal by Tamiko Beyer

#tamiko beyer

[squeakowl]

I’m climbing out of this season, fingernails ragged, belly soft. I tuck a stem of dried mint behind my ear to remind myself. Once, I bared my shoulders. The bottom of my feet roughed up the dirt with their hard calluses. When I harvested arugula, it smelled of green spice—alchemical veins pulsing sun and dirt and water. I do remember this. I pinned summer light up in my hair and made no apologies for the space I took up—barely clothed and sun-bound. Now, a ball of twine in the grey sky. The sun rolls low on the horizon. Hangs. Then dips back down again, wind howling us into night. Inside the erratic rhythm of this wavering flame, I conjure the potent sky of the longest day. Seeds with a whole galaxy inside them. Cicadas vibrating in the alders. But the sensation of joy slips too quickly into simulacra. Song on repeat. I never meant to find myself in such a cold place, my hair thinning against winter. Once, red clover grew thick where today’s rabbit tracks pattern the snow. Clover said flow, clover said nourish, clover said we’ve got this. I reel the memory out, let it linger on the horizon, then reel it back in. I play it out and reel it back in. Some kind of fishing, some kind of flying—again and again. I loosen the buckles of my mind. I take up space in the precision of my breath. I call us all back in.

Tamiko Beyer, February

#quote #poem #february #quotes #poetry #tamiko beyer

[atlas-and-the-time]

I vow / a ravenous undoing

#hannibal #my art #art #digital art #illustration #body horror #hannigram #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #will graham #i’m experimenting!!! #i discovered the existence of colors #yaaaaay #this took so long but i’m pretty satisfied with it #aaanyway #body horror tw #blood tw #cannibalism tw #quote in the caption is from ‘I Vow To Be The Small Flame’ by Tamiko Beyer