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thetableintheback · a day ago
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[id: 12 comic panels depicting a blue sky with various trees, lampposts and power lines as though viewed from a car window. yellow text at the bottom of each image reads:
'We were driving to my grandfather's funeral when my dad told me he loved me for the first and only time. I was looking out the window when I heard him say "I love you, son" and without looking back at him I said "Love you too" leaving out the "I" as if that would be too much. Now when I close my eyes and try to picture his face, all I see is blue sky through the window of a moving car.' /end id]
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“Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car” - Jordan Bolton
Part of “Scenes from Imagined Films” Comic
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thetableintheback · a day ago
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milk-thistle is an example of a word where the tongue barely moves… basilica is an example of a word where the movement involved is like a seesaw. opium as a word is circular to say. to say a word like violence involves a bit of a forced pause in the mouth where the o connecting the syllables is. etymologists trace the word’s history, poets feel the word’s impact, singers listen to the word’s musicality, linguists tell the word to go this way and that way, and the word is gracious to all in return
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thetableintheback · 2 days ago
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The Silt Verses- chapter 6
[Start image ID: a watercolor drawing of large waves, both light and dark blue, with a white border. Three small pieces of papers are glued onto the drawing and read: Isn’t this great? We each get to choose the thing that eats us. End image ID]
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thetableintheback · 2 days ago
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The Silt Verses- chapter 6
[Start image ID: a watercolor drawing of large waves, both light and dark blue, with a white border. Three small pieces of papers are glued onto the drawing and read: Isn’t this great? We each get to choose the thing that eats us. End image ID]
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thetableintheback · 2 days ago
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[text description:
yesterday, i cut my hand
in my kitchen, where the flurosecent lights
burn bright and
cast sharp shadows.
i watched the blood bead up,
and ooze into the bandage
as i wrapped it around my palm.
there is something in my shadow,
and in my dream it drums
its fingers faintly
against my arm
a rapid rhythm that,
strangely, seems to match,
the hastened hammering of my heart.
i wake up to the noise of
rain rapping on my roof,
lightning strikes,
and for a split second
i think i feel it
shock down my spine and
bleed through my back,
tracing raised branches
of shiny red skin.
and then -
i wake up somewhere sunny.
my shadow dark beside me.
i think this feels less real
than before as i pull
at the greying edge of the bandage
on my hand.
layer after layer, it unravels,
i wait, watching
as i begin to bleed again
and my shadow stills beside me. /end description]
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UM OK ^_^ i reposted it cus the old sc was bad
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thetableintheback · 4 days ago
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[Image ID: a black and white typography edit that reads "im not a man or a woman. im a pansy!" in the center is a cluster of pansy blooms with half tone dots. the entire picture is textured to look aged and photocopied. /End ID]
click for quality + do not remove caption (instagram) (my shop) (print shop)
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thetableintheback · 4 days ago
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roadkill comedy special - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) roadkill comedy special
on stage at some shitty bar, i'm killing the crowd. in this dream, i am a stand up comic.
in this dream i can stand, and there's not a wheelchair in sight as i adjust the mic
(even in my mind, things must go wrong)
and wait for the laughter to die.
it trails off like bleeding out on the roadside.
i open the wound fresh -
"anyone else wish they'd killed themself before it got this far?" -
and the room roars back to life in front of me.
in this dream, i say these things under a spotlight just my size while
strangers whoop and holler at their poorly lit tables.
i flay myself in front of an audience of shadows and spin their applause into thread
which i use to sew myself up before the next act comes on.
i save the bleeding for the roadside;
legs mangled and twitching, i cry for
help but it is weak
and not funny any more. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 5 days ago
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she asked me if i believed in god and i told her that when i was four i almost drowned in a public pool and in my panic mistook a stranger for my father. i clawed my way up his leg. four years later he’d send my parents a picture of the scars alongside a tin of cookies. he said, “i hope she’s still okay. i carry her with me. it isn’t every day you save a life. it isn’t every day you feel like you were here for a reason. when it does happen, you have to cherish that memory. for once, i had a purpose. just being there was enough. she tore me open but she taught me a lot about love.”
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thetableintheback · 5 days ago
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there is only sweat and flesh and a body to be lived in, and by god
i will live.
jude francis - he/him - trans&disabled poet
do not add undescribed images to my posts
do not repost my work, although you are free to use in web weavings with proper credit
all original posts can be found under #from the table, and original poems are under #offerings
i am trans and physically disabled and i write about these things often, if you're gonna be rude or weird about it, you will be blocked
my paypal is @/judefac, so if you like my work and would like to support me, feel free to throw a couple bucks my way
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thetableintheback · 5 days ago
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roadkill comedy special - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) roadkill comedy special
on stage at some shitty bar, i'm killing the crowd. in this dream, i am a stand up comic.
in this dream i can stand, and there's not a wheelchair in sight as i adjust the mic
(even in my mind, things must go wrong)
and wait for the laughter to die.
it trails off like bleeding out on the roadside.
i open the wound fresh -
"anyone else wish they'd killed themself before it got this far?" -
and the room roars back to life in front of me.
in this dream, i say these things under a spotlight just my size while
strangers whoop and holler at their poorly lit tables.
i flay myself in front of an audience of shadows and spin their applause into thread
which i use to sew myself up before the next act comes on.
i save the bleeding for the roadside;
legs mangled and twitching, i cry for
help but it is weak
and not funny any more. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 6 days ago
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in which 'girlpower' is synonymous with 'firepower' - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) in which 'girlpower' is synonymous with 'firepower'
'you glow, girl' proclaims the quaint glass bottle of
pink-tipped matches, sulphurous as ever,
but now women can be arsonists too, i suppose.
look, i'll even paint my nails, curl my hair before i send this place
up in flames, and the mugshot will be stunning. it's all a performance,
anyway. it always has been.
i'll hang a sweet-smelling air freshener from the rear view mirror
of my getaway car and roar off into the sunset, my own
knight in shining armour, arms long lithe tanned and elegant, flecked still with gasoline.
the smoke will be a choking choked-off grey no matter what, the flames
licking orange and red regardless of
my pink-tipped matches.
it's not patronizing, i promise - look,
i'll prove it. this blaze is
from a woman's hand. that's power,
isn't it? /end description]
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thetableintheback · 7 days ago
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hot wheels - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) hot wheels
a man rolls into a bar, four wheels and a pair of legs, sweetest voice
you ever heard with a neckline
pulled low enough to get what he wants
from men who won't look hard enough to know better.
his beard is barely visible in the low light but his chest is front and center,
which is what matters tonight.
the guy at a nearby table stands, tucks in his chair, asks
"can you get through okay, miss?"
so our man smiles and mouths a "thank you", sends it off with a bat of his lashes.
he tucks himself under a table not built for legs like his; drops his hands to
the sticky wooden surface, drops the act, too, like slipping off a coat -
one that only fits in certain lights, one that used to be his, but really it belongs
to a girl he used to know.
later in the night he'll slip past that same character from before
this time too tired to pretend, and
thank every crossdresser and cripple in the world for the sterile neutrality of disabled bathrooms,
where he is not forced to choose between fates heralded by stick figures.
back to the table now and back past
the other men, entirely unlike him.
a man rolls out of a bar, and back home
to where his voice is
nothing but his own. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 7 days ago
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the inherent poetry of a closed system
[text description:
when you have ripped the leaves from their broken stems
and i have ripped you from your broken bones
then shall i rest
and return to the soil
from whence you came. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 7 days ago
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patron lover of saints - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) patron lover of saints
when falling in love with a saint,
one ought to remember that praying
is far more efficient than sending a text;
this is because divine beings do not have to contend with crap signal.
if you are concerned that your
two-in-one patron saint&lover will be late for dinner,
simply clasp your hands and ask the universe to remind them, and
feel free to check if they want white or brown rice, while you're at it.
if possible, fall in love with the saint of something useful -
lost items, lost causes, lost marbles.
when you are cycling home from work,
and are struck, not by a car,
but by the realisation that your rings have been stolen,
pray to the face of your lover that all things be reversed.
you will not find yourself cycling backwards,
but your rings may find their way back to your fingers, which you can then
unstick from each other, and instead
use to cradle that same face.
this saint of yours may work miracles,
but they work a 9-5 too, and heaven doesn't allow smoke breaks.
kiss their lips, their cheeks, their forehead when they walk through the front door.
do not scold them for their lateness,
or worry about dinner. order in,
get any kind of rice you want.
you will eat dinner together for the rest of your lives. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 7 days ago
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having you with a coke - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) having you with a coke
i sip coke while reciting
having a coke with you
and think about
what i might be doing instead,
were i with you.
often, i think of this.
i picture you and me in a kitchen with yellow-painted walls.
in my imagination, we dance
to old love songs. we sing along
and there isn't half a tune
between us, but there is
so much love that it spills
out of the windows, and
floods the street.
i start the poem again,
though i have finished
my drink. the life that i have
constructed continues
to spin with us
on the kitchen tiles.
one day we will dance, and
i will recite o'hara to you
with your head on my chest.
i start the poem again. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 7 days ago
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untitled poem after frank o'hara - jude francis
[text description:
i think, surely i shall not continue to be unhappy, and then i do -
i repeat this monthly, twice if i'm feeling
particularly small and in need
of a show to mark my place.
the only thing to do is continue, though
i am not yet sure how.
on the first night of the year i
sit with my brother and with tears
in my eyes and dripping from my chin.
again and again i ask him
what i am supposed to do now? and
he does not know, so i cry and cry
and eventually i stop.
today i cry and i still do not know what i am supposed to being doing without you,
only that i am doing it anyway. /end description]
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thetableintheback · 7 days ago
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yellow bowl - jude francis
[text description:
(in italics) yellow bowl
the bowl is in pieces in the bathtub.
my father ate soup from it when
i was a child, but he
does not anymore. he does not do anything anymore.
the bowl in pieces in the bathtub
was half of a pair - a wedding gift -
and it lived far longer than its partner,
which was broken two days in.
the bowl is in three neat pieces in the bathtub, where
it caught its own shards, which is surely a metaphor for something that
i do not wish to write.
the bowl in pieces in the bathtub was full of cracks anyway, stained with
the last shade of hair dye mixed in it,
and it had lived a good life
and maybe it was tired. maybe
the cherries on the side were overripe and
the chipped rim missed its yellow color.
the bowl was much older than me but
my hands were careless and it
was fragile, and now
it is in pieces in the bathtub. /end description]
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