I have fingerprint black and blues on the soft meat on the inside of my thighs from the whorls of your fingers. During the day, I vacation to the front of a mirror and press them, the tiny shocks of hurt reminding me of your dotted hands. I think about the loops and patterns and meanings of your fingertips.
On day 3 of the binge, I dragged
her favorite bookcase to the lawn, shook
a can of gasoline over the wood and gazed
as the flame stole across the shelves.
What may have begun as an interesting concept has devolved into repetitive ilk. I don’t think anyone who wanted another Purge movie, and yet people flocked out to see it this week. I don’t know which was weaker: the characters, the social commentary, or the thrills. The film explores how the Purge evolved from a social experiment on Staten Island, where participants would receive a monetary stipend for their participation. I feel the cast and crew did the same when Hollywood asked them to make this film. The film’s one redeeming quality is that it emphasizes the importance of community.
Sean woodard on the cult classic The Phantom of the Paradise: “The film features plenty of trademarks that would later define De Palma’s cinematic style—split-screen, intricately choreographed sequences, optical effects—but the standout is its inspired soundtrack, composed by Paul Williams.”
COMICSMr. ButterchipsAlex Schumacher
The surly simian returns in Alex Schumacher’s latest Mr. Butterchips!
The dog’s head lifted from where he lay in a bed of dirt. He looked up with dulled eyes, panting in the blunt rays of an indifferent scorching summer sun. A heavy chain held him to a weathered post, its radius too small to reach the shade of a nearby battered and slumping back porch. Sweat trickled down the center of my back as I walked towards him.
Things … aren’t great, but we’re here for you.
I love Vicente Fernandez &
Brittany Beyoncé & Gaga
Ketchup with my torta
Wine with my tacos
She is born to blossom.
Her painted ghost wanders,
Haunting the meadow
And whispering to trees.
venus transverses the sky
planes crisscross the globe
with a sneeze, i mumble a false prayer
like the beautiful lotus-bud arguing with the wild dandelion
the night stays with us, we stay with it too
not knowing what new name to give to our children
who are beginning to ask: “what is in a name anyway?”
Dolly pondered from her place at the kitchen sink, the room littered with dishes. She hadn’t remembered buying so many dishes and wondered how they would fit inside her cabinets, which were too small. Each dish needed washing, which brought her back to her everyday question, is this what it’s like, standing alone at the sink while the child drools?
i know queerness doesn’t exist
for a person with large breasts
or for a person who can’t decide
if they’re in love with masculinity
or the freedom it affords you
careless desire for love
forbidden intimacy
my anxiety abated
two perfect halves
naked soft and sleek
nightmare brusque dark
it has to go somewhere
why not your clavicle?
she wishes she could stay
vulnerable: open like a barn door breeze
beasts shuffle in, smell sweet H.
the moon cuts through the dark
you trace small circles
across the top of my hand
with your middle finger
men call the golden steppes of russia
death on a rocky crag
how many blessings to see this land
I’ve always been this way: open, friendly, disarming, talkative. Whatever you want to call it, it’s an act. I'm as calculated as a new student on the first day of school. See, I’ve trained myself to ward off dangers with words.
His name is Bobby, but often, he responds to the call of Booby. We are grown, up, but he stays Booby to the best of us. Who would name a cat Bobby or Booby? Beats me. Like orange and its equal-opposite.