Michael Wasson, from “Your Still-Life Is No Longer Still,” in Swallowed Light
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& before you live
you must remember that night
is always falling somewhere
in the world. Someday autumn
could be just another hole
that winter empties into.
Remember me for this hunger
I brought you into. That your warm
body has never lived
without me.
— Michael Wasson, from "[Untitled]," Swallowed Light
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- Michael Wasson, The Bones of Us.
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"Listen to me. There will be a day when the world will need
you
most—be alive on that day."
—Michael Wasson, from "Your Shadow Invents You Every Time Light Fails to Pass Through You"
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I write my name
backward for you
to read my body
in your own
forsaken reflection.
- Michael Wasson, A Soliloquy Would Imply That the Stage Is Empty.
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How it means: shadows
learning to breathe again—the disgraced light
here. It means all these branches are clotheslines
where nothing hangs anymore. It means you
touching the mirror is enough to crack apart
every America you’ve known since. It means no-
body is here. It means the ash in the dirt blown
to air was the braided hair of your ghosts longing
to welcome you back.
—Michael Wasson, from “Self-portrait as 1879–1934” (The Kenyon Review, November/December 2017)
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— Michael Wasson, 'Portrait with Smeared Centuries'.
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US Vogue February 2001
"Boy Meets Girl"
Models: Erin Wasson & Unknown male
Photographer: Mario Testino
Fashion Editor: Carine Roitfeld
Hair: Michael Boadi
Makeup: Val Garland
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Celine Fall 2004 Ready-to-Wear
(Model: Erin Wasson)
(Model: Gemma Ward)
(Model: Hana Soukupova)
(Model: Marcelle Bittar)
(Model: Jaunel McKenzie)
(Model: Raquel Zimmermann)
(Model: Liya Kebede)
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a myth is told at the end
of autumn when you are naked
with all the lights off & all you remember
is the voice of someone
you’ve forgotten: someone you said
you loved: so you stand here in the dark until
that song of flesh drowns your bones: & stays
like any starved god would
— Michael Wasson, from "Testament #90," Swallowed Light
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Let me tell you a story: for ages, I have been holding on to our silence,
a child learning to move his forsaken hands, to palm
the walls of this godless place. I am
your animal, a heart trashing the air everywhere
& nowhere, Almost a torch—
- Michael Wasson, Swallowed Prayers as Creation.
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inspired by @candiedspit post but list of poems that have influenced my writing
howl by allen ginsberg
magdalene: the addict by marie howe
a soliloquy would imply that the stage is empty by michael wasson
fleurs du mal by charles baudelaire
the wasteland by t.s. eliot
narcotic winter by danielle shutt
1994 by ginger bronson
poppies in july by sylvia plath
persephone writes a poem by karese burrows
mayakovsky by frank o'hara
love poem without a drop of hyperbole in it by traci brimhall
heartland by lisel mueller
for desire by kim addonizio
tessa dipietro by lana del rey
speeches for dr. frankenstein by margaret atwood
where flesh circulates by william s. burroughs
the sleazebag speaks by jasmine ledesma
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