Writing Requires Discipline, But Disciplined Writers Are Not Necessarily Prolific. Most Good Work Gets

by Herr Bohn

                                            I leave this out too                   how I still defend him how a wound                like that           over a decade              becomes a kind of heart

— Hala Alyan, from “Cliffhanger” published in The Offing

the things we learn on our mothers’ laps

see that lady standing there between the window & the fire extinguisher? she’s just lost her father & i think her boyfriend just left her.

why the fuck would you say that?

i’m telling you, i’ve got this superpower. i just know.

how’s that? a superpower?

not a marvel studios superpower, u silly. more like this supreme capacity. i’ve always had it.

when my dad abandoned my mom, she lost herself in the world’s most dangerous drug: poetry.

she used to hold me on her lap while reciting emily brunte & sylvia plath.

i think that’s why i can read into people’s sadness.

when i come across sadness on the street, authentic sadness, the blues crawl out their host & come talk to me. i’m thinking of starting a mémoire or a blog on it. like that humans of new york, u know?

talk about those things we learn on our mothers’ laps…

i reckon everyone who’s lucky enough to have a mum will undoubtedly learn something whilst resting on her lap. my mom used to sit me on her lap while she revised old latin scriptures & tried herself at egyptian hieroglyphics.

that’s why sometimes tombs & churches murmur their secrets to me. they tell me stories about the afterlife & how, if demanded gently, fire can caress the soul the way water strokes the curves of an overflowing vase.

they find it hilarious that we make a big deal out of our own end.

when all there really is, is an everlasting void.

- @skinthepoet

I see you as a god / at the crossroads burning your secrets for lamplight.

Sade Murphy, from “self portrait: acetone and hesitance carved into linoleum,” published in Joint (via lifeinpoetry)

What’s closer to god: thirst or confession?

Kristin Chang, from “Outcall #,” published in The Wanderer (via tristealven)

″One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.“

- Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Let me be young & disrespectful. Let me leave my plate an unfinished slaughter. Let me spend & eat until I, & no one else, says I’m done.

— Fatimah Asghar, from “Look, I’m Not Good At Eating Chicken,” published in The Rumpus

lets do an honesty hour ask me anything