Another one from the new issue of Creem.
issue 3.5 l.a. launch @ alias books w/ christopher pollard & rebecca cox rounds out the spring launch season just in time for the official start of summer!
thanks to all who came out to our festivities on the east, west, and middle coasts! a limited number of copies of issue 3.5_graphic content_are still available for sale in bookstores and via paypal. check our website for the full scoop.
[harlequincreature.org]
"Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships."
— Charles Simic (via larmoyante)
"That’s what I do: I make coffee and occasionally succumb to suicidal nihilism. But you shouldn’t worry — poetry is still first. Cigarettes and alcohol follow."
— Anne Sexton, Self-Portrait In Letters (via larmoyante)
Self Portrait of Helmut Newton in Hotel Bijou, Paris (1973)
(Source: thedreamarchive)
A Story for Strangers [minutelovestory #90]
Mescal was dripping onto the tile floor. This would cause problems later. She looked down to see that two lime wedges also lay there, one of them showing signs of having been crushed beneath a sole. Things were presently, currently, tilting and blurring. The petite ceramic vessels of agave’s fermented fluids could be held accountable for some of this but not culpable completely. Something about the way he licked the salt from his fist. Something about how he conjectured the likelihood of feral mapaches lurking through the yard and he said of these masked beasts who tear koi in half and toss the guts into rose bushes, rip legs from kept, wading tortoises, force dogs into swimming pools to drown them: “They’re not vicious.” And so he swayed into the dark, swinging a bag of empty bottles and cans like a privileged hobo, warding off negligible predators.
The door swung open as the matte newscaster reported the Rincon Valley fires were zero percent contained. They silently watched the flames dance on the screen, their own bodies pressed hard together, shoulder to shoulder. Balancing the bowl on the overturned tips of her fingers, she pursed her lips to blow and wish.
