I’M GOING BACK TO MINNESOTA WHERE SADNESS MAKES SENSE

by Danez Smith

O California, don’t you know the sun is only a god if you learn to starve for him? I’m bored with the ocean I stood at the lip of it, dressed in down, praying for snow I know, I’m strange, too much light makes me nervous at least in this land where the trees always bear green. I know something that doesn’t die can’t be beautiful. Have you ever stood on a frozen lake, California? The sun above you, the snow & stalled sea — a field of mirror all demanding to be the sun too, everything around you is light & it’s gorgeous & if you stay too long it will kill you & it’s so sad, you know? You’re the only warm thing for miles & the only thing that can’t shine.

and what good will your vanity be when the rapture comes by Hanif Abdurraqib

Mahmoud Darwish, Life To The Last Drop

the letter by linda gregg

Swimming, One Day in August

by Mary Oliver

It is time now, I said, for the deepening and quieting of the spirit among the flux of happenings.

Something had pestered me so much I thought my heart would break. I mean, the mechanical part.

I went down in the afternoon to the sea which held me, until I grew easy.

About tomorrow, who knows anything. Except that it will be time, again, for the deepening and quieting of the spirit.

from The Crown Ain’t Worth Much by Hanif Abdurraqib

"Mirror" by Rita Dove

morning love poem by Tara Skurtu

louise glück!!!!

my house by Nikki Giovanni

[ID: i only want to / be there to kiss you / as you want to be kissed / when you need to be kissed / where i want to kiss you / cause it's my house / and i plan to live in it

i really need to hug you / when i want to hug you / as you like to hug me / does this sound like a silly poem

i mean it's my house / and i want to fry pork chops / and bake sweet potatoes / and call them yams / cause i run the kitchen / and i can stand the heat

i spent all winter in

carpet stores gathering / patches so i could make / a quilt / does this really sound / like a silly poem / i mean i want to keep you / warm

and my windows might be dirty / but it's my house / and if i can't see out sometimes / they can't see in either

english isn't a good language / to express emotion through / mostly i imagine because people / try to speak english instead / of trying to speak through it / i don't know maybe it is / a silly poem

i'm saying it's my house / and i'll make fudge and call

it love and touch my lips / to the chocolate warmth / and smile at old men and call / that revolution cause what's real / is really real / and i still like men in tight / pants cause everybody has some / thing to give and more / important needs something to take

and this is my house and you make me / happy / so this is your poem

END ID.]

jenny joseph, warning

desperation sits heavy on my tongue

PRAYER FOR WEREWOLVES from We are Mermaids by Stephanie Burt