1. magictransistor:

    Manual for magnetizing with the rotary and vibrating magnetic machine, in the duo-dynamic treatment of diseases (Page 113), 1845.

    (via femstatic)

  2. alexandersupertramp:

    there are a lot of yous in this poem and one of them is you by John Mortara

    this really, really beautiful and I am thankful it exists

    (via tracydimond)

  3. empathlit:


    Dianna Dragonetti ( diannadragonettiisdead ) and I ( thetsaritsa ) are co-curating a new tumblr specifically for survivors of abuse and other trauma. 

    please email: empathlit@gmail.com

    we are empath

  4. lk-shaw:

    spatial awareness

    1. someone grabbed my leg on the subway. in the station, i mean. on the stairs. at broadway junction. 

    2. i was walking downstairs while a lot of other people were walking upstairs. i was wearing a short dress. it was very warm. a man extended his arm as we passed each other and he gripped his fingers around my thigh. i turned around, disgusted, and then got swept away in the human traffic. i saw he was small, chubby, white, wearing a hat. i told obd about it, once we were out of the crowd. he told me that he was sorry. i felt sorry too. 

    3. i went quiet for a while. imagining fingers on thigh. fingers on everything. my fingers penetrating that man’s eyeballs and not feeling sorry. 

    4. i have become so guarded against all types of physical and sexual danger, that i can’t remember how to feel sexy even when it’s safe, sometimes. have you ever known this feeling? or something like it? do you know when can i learn to relax? or if i can. 

    5. there is no structure to these fragments. they are just a few of the things that have happened to me lately. or i might have happened to them. or maybe we couldn’t help but all move along together. this is the trajectory of the narrative of new york. i’m just kidding?

    6. throw your body around in the same ways that i do and try to keep all of the feelings in.

    7. i am this woman who lives out of a tiny suitcase. 

    8. at MoMA P.S.1, there is an exhibition of works by james lee byars. it includes an installation titled, ‘the ghost of james lee byars. it is simple. it is a pitch-black empty room which you have to walk across, without explanation. i found it exhilarating. we walked through it three separate times, obd and i, in between seeing byars’ other works.

    a) the first time we walked through, we didn’t understand what was going on. we opened the curtains and we stepped into the darkness, holding on to each other. we could hear other people somewhere, laughing and clicking their fingers. we walked forwards, and quickly, trying to find a way out. through the darkness, i sensed panic running through his body and then the panic ran into me too. i gripped my fingers around his forearm and soon we had made it all the way across the room and through some other curtains. we stepped back into the light and we were both laughing. 

    b) we stood in the middle of the room, kissing and touching each others’ bodies for a while. at some point, another person flashed their phone light for a split second and then everything changed. as we left again, i felt secret and high, but the room felt different now that i had seen its layout for a brief moment. exposed.

    c) we entered from opposing doors. we met in the middle. i said his name out loud, nervously. he laughed. (so it becomes all about trust). he was sitting on the floor. i sat beside him. we held hands and watched as other people opened the curtains. we witnessed their shadows blending into the darkness. we clicked our fingers intermittently in an attempt to scare newcomers in the same way we had been scared by other people. after a while, the darkness itself became underwhelming and we left the room. afterwards i had a small headache. 

    9. we joke sometimes about the ‘profound experiences of art’ mentioned often in ben lerner’s ‘leaving the atocha station’. when i asked obd if he had had one, he told me ‘i had seven,’ and then paused and then smiled and then added, ‘like a woman’. i laughed and shook my head, and then smiled too. PEoA. 

    10. the feeling of being picked up by a huge wave and then the feeling of having your body slammed into the sand, while your brain is still trailing afterwards. i like that feeling.

    11. adding lime juice to just about anything makes it taste fresher.

    12. the german word for whale is Wal. 

    13. in german, nouns are capitalized. 

    14. the german word for herbivore is Pflanzenfresser. 

    15. the german word for poetry is Dichtkunst. 

    16. i mean, it’s kind of funny.   

    17. i didn’t tell everybody this yet but we decided we are moving to berlin. soon. 

    18. the ingénue is a stock character in literature, film and a role type in the theatre; generally a girl or a young woman who is endearingly innocent and wholesome. the term comes from the feminine form of the french adjective ingénu meaning “ingenuous” or innocent, virtuous, and candid. the term may also imply a lack of sophistication and cunning

    19. of course, no one can afford to be that. 


  5. aseaofquotes:

    Frank O’Hara, “Nocturne”

    (via kdecember)

  6. themeghanforbes:

    what is time made?

    ian mclellan davis & i try to answer that question in words & notes.

    typed & hand notated on fine paper; accordion bound.


  7. "Once we start talking in the classroom about the body and how we live in our bodies, we’re automatically challenging the way power has orchestrated itself in that particular institutionalized space. The person who is most powerful has the privilege of denying their body…Our romantic notion of the professor is so tied to a sense of the transitive mind, a mind that, in a sense, is always at odds with the body. I think part of why everyone in the culture, and students in general, have a tendency to see professors as people who don’t work is totally tied to that sense of the immobile body. Part of the class separation between what we do and what the majority of people in this culture can do (service, work, labor) is that they move their bodies. Liberatory pedagogy really demands that one work in the classroom, and that one work with the limits of the body, work both with and through and against those limits: teachers may insist that it doesn’t matter whether you stand behind the podium or the desk, but it does. I remember in my early teaching days that when I first tried to move out beyond the desk, I felt really nervous. I remember thinking, “This really is about power. I really do feel more ‘in control’ when I’m behind the podium or behind the desk than when I’m walking toward my students, standing close to them, maybe even touching them.” Acknowledging that we are bodies in the classroom has been important for me, especially in my efforts to disrupt the notion of professor as omnipotent, all-knowing mind."
    — from Teaching to Trangress by bell hooks (via tracydimond)
  8. sarahjeanalex:

    when someone says, ‘he’s right over there, but don’t look now,’ i never do.

    it is hard to gauge what people actually want versus what they expect from you.

    i try to be easy but i’m not.

    i try to be self-sufficient but i still seek validation from people i don’t trust.

    i try to be a grown woman but my mom is sending me a box of tea in the mail because she worries about me.

    i try not to think about a person who is far away but i think about him all the time.

    i think about everyone else too.

    we are lucky if we get one minute of quietness a day, and if we do, we never remember it.

    i only remember the talking that i watch other mouths make at me.

    i only remember the grime on the fingers of homeless people asking for change.

    i only remember shaking my head and wringing my hands.

    i only remember that i’m still comparing myself to the people who made fun of me in middle school.

    i only remember telling him to choke me because we would both like it. 

    i don’t remember the silence but i think it’s supposed to be that way.

    i reach for things after i notice they are across the room and i am too high to stand.

    i reach in general because once again i am in desperate need of attention.

    i categorize people into who i am avoiding and who i want to be the only person available for.

    luckily, there are very few people left.

    luckily, here we are.

    yes, i am falling asleep alone tonight.

    yes, i am here, how may i help.

    no, thank you.

    it’s true.

    you are the new you in my poems.

    (via blankslate)

  9. "a certain loudness"

    (Source: myshoesuntied)


  10. carolinecrew:

    This on repeat until I am off this goddamn farm.


    Notley & Timberlake.  This poem is really incredible & emotional & especially my last post about not wanting to appear “irreverent” is applicable here

    (via tracydimond)


  11. "

    Dance like you don’t care that you are the centerpiece of the world’s most expensive commercial.

    Dance like the apocalypse has been prophesied to coincide with your dancing’s cessation.

    Dance like you’re not insane, but you’re trying very hard to look insane enough to convince your observers that you’re not responsible for something awful they all know you did.


  12. "

    first glass broken on patio no problem
    forgotten sour cream for vegetable no problem
    Lewis MacAdam’s tough lower jaw no problem
    cops arriving to watch bellydancer no problem
    plastic bags of melted ice no problem
    wine on antique tablecloth no problem
    scratchy stereo no problem
    neighbor’s dog no problem
    interviewer from Berkeley Barb no problem
    absence of more beer no problem
    too little dope no problem
    leering Naropans no problem
    cigarette butts on the altars no problem
    Marilyn vomiting in planter box no problem
    Phoebe renouncing love no problem
    Lewis renouncing Phoebe no problem
    hungry ghosts no problem
    absence of children no problem
    heat no problem
    dark no problem
    arnica scattered in nylon rug no problem
    ashes in bowl of bleached bone and Juniper berries no problem
    lost Satie tape no problem
    loss of temper no problem
    arrogance no problem
    boxes of empty beer cans & wine bottles no problem
    thousands of styrofoam cups no problem
    Gregory Curso no problem
    Allen Ginsberg no problem
    Diane di Prima no problem
    Anne Waldman’s veins no problem
    Dick Gallup’s birthday no problem
    Joanne Kyger’s peyote & rum no problem wine no problem
    coca-cola no problem
    getting it on in the wet grass no problem
    running out of toilet paper no problem
    decimation of pennyroyal no problem
    destruction of hair clasp no problem
    paranoia no problem
    claustrophobia no problem
    growing up on Brooklyn streets no problem
    growing up in Tibet no problem
    growing up in Chicano Texas no problem
    bellydancing certainly no problem
    figuring it all out no problem
    giving it all up no problem
    giving it all away no problem
    devouring everything in sight no problem

    what else in Allen’s refrigerator?
    what else in Anne’s cupboard?
    what do you know that you
    haven’t told me yet?
    No problem. No problem. No problem.

    staying another day no problem
    getting out of town no problem
    telling the truth, almost no problem
    easy to stay awake
    easy to go to sleep
    easy to sing the blues
    easy to chant sutras
    what’s all the fuss about?

    it decomposes - no problem
    we pack it in boxes - no problem
    we swallow it with water, lock it in the trunk,
    make a quick getaway. NO PROBLEM.

    — No Problem Party Poem by Diane di Prima (via fuckyeahbeatgeneration)

    (via fuckyeahbeatniks)

  13. electronochuckyoung:

    from Light Boxes by Shane Jones


  14. "The first rule of poetry is honesty; the second rule is fuck you."
    — Alice Notely (via raze-occam)

    (Source: raze-spookem, via kdecember)


  15. normals:

    My Sears-Roebuck 1960 model heart has been in the shop a lot of late and here is another blow: Adam Shutz, the wry sophisticate who resembles one of the cast from the ’70s BBC show “UFO” is deserting Baltimore for even more gun-laden Texas to study with Tim O’Brien. Thusly and thrustly Artichoke…