#torrin a. greathouse

[geryone]

A Dead Shark Isn’t Art, torrin a. greathouse

#quotes #poetry #quote #poem #torrin a. greathouse #id in alt text #full poem 😵‍💫

[invisiblemonstrosity]

FAMILY PORTRAIT AS UNFINISHED MEAL - TORRIN A. GREATHOUSE

//

CARCASS OF BEEF - CHAIM SOUTINE

#love this painting #it’s from 1925 if anyone is wondering #and this poem my god #I’m reading wound from the mouth of a wound by torrin a greathouse and she’s phenomenal #chaim soutine #carcass of beef #art #painting #artist #torrin a. greathouse #wound from the mouth of a wound #family portrait as an unfinished meal #poem #poetry #typography #writing #words #aesthetic #aes #h8 #wound #poetry edit #poem edit #edit #poet parlay

[chineseamericanfailure]

"Hapnophobia or the Fear of Being Touched," Wound from the Mouth of a Wound, torrin a. greathouse

#hbo succession #succession edit #kendall roy #succession #torrin a. greathouse #alt text included #my edit

[smokefalls]

The body is a fickle / language.

torrin a. greathouse, “Still Life with Bedsores” from Wound from the Mouth of a Wound

#torrin a. greathouse #Wound from the Mouth of a Wound #quote #poetry #queerlit #2022 reads #Sealey Challenge

[carfuckerlynch]

HELLO

#odhran.txt #help. #torrin a. greathouse #poetry

[haveyoureadthistransbook]

Wound from the Mouth of a Wound by torrin a. greathouse

goodreads

These poems ache, but they do not surrender. They bleed, but they spit the blood in our eyes. Their imagery pulses on the page, fractal and fluid, blooming in a medley of forms: broken essays, haibun born of erasure, a sonnet meant to be read in the mirror. greathouse’s poetry demands more of language and those who wield it. “I’m still learning not to let a stranger speak / me into a funeral.” Concrete and evocative, Wound from the Mouth of a Wound is a testament to persistence, even when the body is not allowed to thrive. greathouse—elegant, vicious, “a one-girl armageddon” draped in crushed velvet—teaches us that fragility is not synonymous with flaw.

Mod opinion: I haven't read this poetry collection yet, but I love the cover and I'm very interested in checking it out.

#wound from the mouth of a wound #torrin a. greathouse #torrin greathouse #polls #trans books #trans lit #trans literature #lgbt books #lgbt lit #lgbt literature #poetry #to read #trans woman #own voices

[twoticky]

Ekphrasis on Nude Selfie as Portrait of Saint Sebastian

by torrin a. greathouse

Suppose they made martyrs

out of bodies like ours. Found

faith in all our petty miracles.

You woke this morning, drew

breath like a blade from a sheath.

As a child, I learned to never draw

a knife without intending to draw

blood, when my grandfather made me

draw my own. My love, I can’t think

of your body, waking, & not recall

how the morning sky lit up our sheets

in waves of faded red & neither of us

were emptied. By our hands or

a stranger’s. Suppose we might

be made holy & never imagined

ghosts. An iPhone photo’s flicker—

your bare chest held in the dim

bathroom glow, pierced by arrows

of nothing but mirror-spread light.

Bead of biopsied scar, the tender

entrance of a blade. Around your

damp hair wound a rough halo

of pixels. One hand twisting as if

dragged toward a common faith.

Lack of sleep bruising deep

hollows beneath your eyes,

the pale yellow of pollen

-stained lips, like mine when,

as a child, I bit through

flowers, believing anything

beautiful enough—when

swallowed—might stay. The way,

seeing you, I wished I might hold

your mouth, against mine, like

the last embers of the evening sky—

a broken-in Bic lighter’s clear

flame & the sport we made

of holding it to our wrists until

our fear sparked a hotter blaze.

A kind of irony halfway

to faith, all winter I whispered

psalms under my breath through

empty streets. Then, come spring,

I fell for you to the melody of

a Green Day song praising

the messiah of a suburban youth

neither of us had. But goddamn,

the way that one lyric, I’m the son

of rage & love, felt so familiar to

both our mouths—like a bitten

cheek’s fresh copper sting. Here,

your body, always shaking—now on

-screen frozen, poised, just so—how

could I not see, in you, this first

gay saint? Sin of our imagination.

Saint of Soldiers. Patron Saint

of Sickness Healed. Saint of Archer’s

bows bent like boughs mid-storm.

Martyred, slain, & made a prayer

to that which, still living, would

have seen him buried. & isn’t this

the queerest thing about him?

The very pliancy of his legacy?

How a myth glances at the edge

of history, like feeble bulbs burning

feints toward the sun, renders

the body—something between

portraiture & flesh. I kneel before

your image; your ribs curled like

seraph’s wings, stomach cleft by

a flash of pale curls. I whet my lips

to speak your name. To kiss your

hands, curling into the posture

of prayer, they could almost have

been carved from stone. I swear:

If idolatry was my only sin, then

it’s because god wasn’t watching.

#poems #torrin a. greathouse #my 1st thought reading was 'tumblr needs to see this' so here it is #poetry #trans poetry

[kagrenacs]

On distortion

torrin a. greathouse

Every doctor’s appointment is a game.                    [Two truths & a lie.]           I lie             only as a backdoor                      to treatment. To trick                      my way past a kept gate.                                                                   ▼ [SSI limits the maximum savings of each disabled person to $2000. A threshold which, once passed, cancels their state support.]                                                                  ▼  Until the decade before                                                               I was born, queerness was a lock                                                    on gender’s door.           Transition impossible                                                                              without proof—or deception—;                                        impossible unless a doctor believed                                                                                           that you were straight.                                                                  ▼ My love & I can’t pass as anything                                         predictably. Our genders—two coins spun                                         & flickering                                                    [now faggots, now dykes,                                         next straight, next question marks                                     crooked into the curve of each other].

                                                                ▼                                                                                  Distortion means, literally,                                                              a twisting                        out of shape. Like vines, like steel, like a question.                                                    My skin worn like a funhouse mirror.                                                                  ▼ [For married couples in which both partners receive SSI benefits, the limit is just $3000. The Social Security Administration reserves the right to audit anyone receiving SSI and if a common law marriage is suspected, their benefits may be canceled or suspended.]                                                                  ▼ When I call my love             husband, this is a distortion                           of the truth. The truth is I cannot name them this,             in public, without putting our futures                           at risk. Without the risk of—                                                                              a verb can carry many meanings,                                                                     here, the verb deem means:                                              One of us will be assumed the other’s                                                                                            keeper; one of us will be                                                                  assumed a burden, even if                                                     we can’t carry each other alone.                                                                  ▼                          If  I told the auditor that we aren’t married                                           would they believe me?                             Or think this was another distortion?                                                                  ▼              Imagine: the wedding band, a ring of salt, soft & glimmering             charm to banish the checks that might keep us                                        fed & clothed.                                                                  ▼    Imagine: the wedding band, a ring of salt, soft & glimmering             charm to banish the checks that might keep us                                        fed & clothed.                                                                  ▼                                                                                                      All I want is this:                                                                                        to have & to hold, & to be                                                                                          held by the world without                                                                                             earning our place in it.

                                                                ▼                                    & still, there are states that will refuse                                                            to wed us.                                    Where we can’t kiss, or piss, or walk                                                hand-in-hand in peace.                                                                  ▼ We sprawl across the bed, a song                          blaring tinny through my phone’s shitty speaker, distortion throttling              a sound wave’s impossible throat. The singer screams, “I don’t want to be equal              ’cause I know I’m fuckin’ better than you!” I spin the wedding band chained            to my neck—reminder of a future I can’t hold.                                                                  ▼                                               They’ll make us decide                              between love & survival.                                                                                      But survival                                    just means to grow more diligent              in the soft art                                    of touch in a sharp economy.                  To take each other                                            in sickness,                                                                             but not in wealth.                                                                  ▼

Sometimes, I dream of our wedding day                             & all this might cost us.                                         This dream—                                                       our failed epithalamium.                                                                                                              Our love— an anti-dowry.   

#poetry #torrin a. greathouse #what makes this so fucking poignant to me is while i was reading this in the library two ppl at the other table #were whispering to each other and staring at me as i used my cane #long post #i tried to keep the formatting but tumblr is what it is

[geryone]

“While Researching the Etymology of Punk, I Discover a Creation Myth Stitched into the Liner Notes”, torrin a. greathouse

#quotes #quote #poetry #poem #torrin a. greathouse #id in alt text

[vampiresdontsleep]

ON TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS PT.1: THE “VICTIM” ROLE

George K. Simon Jr. - In Sheep’s Clothing: Understanding and Dealing with Manipulative People // @thepersonalgrowth.project (Instagram) // Roman Gubskii // Steve Maraboli // drawception.com - SkybornSentinel // Blossoms - The Amazing Devil // Maggie Young // dreamstime.com - Artez67 // torrin a. greathouse - Medusa with the Head of Perseus

#web weaving #quotes #poetry #literature #aesthetic #george k. simon jr. #steve maraboli #the amazing devil #tad #joey batey #madeleine hyland #maggie young #torrin a. greathouse #medusa with the head of perseus #max’s miscellaneous art

[invisiblemonstrosity]

litany of ordinary violences - torrin a. greathouse from wound from the mouth of a wound

#Id in alt text #torrin a. greathouse #wound from the mouth of a wound #litany of ordinary violences #oh what one can normalize when faced with it so frequently #injustices become annoyances #the unjustifiable becomes routine #which is a poem in and of itself #poems #poetry #lit #literature #poem #quotes #aesthetic #aes #typography #words #trans #transgender #artist #queer artist #torrin my love

[bones-ivy-breath]

On Examination/Dereliction by Torrin A. Greathouse, from Wound from the Mouth of a Wound

#on examination/dereliction #torrin a. greathouse #quote #typography #aesthetic #dark academia #dead academia #original post #wound from the mouth of a wound #disability #bodymind #dark things #the self #disability poetry #disabled authors

[thedearidiot]

how the horizon opens like wings [or a mouth] to swallow us

like a lover might.

- Torrin A. Greathouse, Swallow / Swallowed / Swallowing.

#torrin a. greathouse #poetry #the hole in my belly has started growing #this is not a love story

[smokefalls]

I am told I must be kind / to this body of mine. / So, I am practicing / the smallest mercies.

torrin a. greathouse, “Ritual of Small Mercies” from Wound from the Mouth of a Wound

#torrin a. greathouse #Wound from the Mouth of a Wound #quote #poetry #queerlit #2022 reads #Sealey Challenge

[toneemoll]

It’s so easy for us to forget, history

& biography share no common root.

— Torrin A. Greathouse in “There’s No Trace of the Word ‘Transgender’ in Adrienne Rich’s Biography.”

#poetry #trans poetry #lgbtq poetry #torrin a. greathouse #feminism #adrienne rich

[felixthepoet]

“Burning Haibun” by torrin a. greathouse

#was reminded of this poem today… whew #poems #now reading #torrin a. greathouse #alcoholism #homophobia #abuse #transphobia