Nate

So when thousands of women (and children) were being duplicated--including in non-consensual AI porn--it was no big deal. But it took "only a 15-sec clip" of these two famous white men to draw outrage and fear. Gotcha. Cool cool.

procrastinated my schoolwork so hard I just did my taxes, ugh

[flirting]

*you're

All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die.

Auden

No son, they are not "magically delicious." The workers made them delicious. This is a slogan meant to mystify the social conditions of labor

Issue Six Subs are now open!
While you prep your submissions, enjoy @katiemanningpoet.bsky.social's work in Issue Five!

The Sermon on the Mount, by Beryl Lewis, before 1965, 📸 by @ScottStrazzante

1. It was not an accident.
2. It was not a staffer.
3. While the president may have dementia his racism is not due to dementia.
4. He isn’t sorry. He means every racist thought he shares.
5. His base agrees with him.
6. He will do it again.
7. No one in power will hold him accountable.

“In the current socio-political climate, he said to himself, committing suicide is absurd and redundant. Better to become an undercover poet.”
― Roberto Bolaño, Distant Star

"The naked human body is the grave in blossom; it is both / sad & instructive."

Larry Levis in "Sleeping Lioness"

Final three stanzas are so gorgeous. Thanks for sharing

We Wake Each Day in This World We've Made Togethe The first thing I notice about this world is its mouth. Its many mouths. The way each opens differently, angle of teeth or tongue held just so — all the ways to be consumed. All the caverns in the surface of this place, their depths, their dripping darknesses. Simply to be alive here is to be at risk. I'm talking of course about the planet of being in love with you, the hungriest planet, this world we've made together, the aesthetics of it - the body of it. All mouth. All plunder.

Simply to be alive
here is to be

at risk.

Amorak Huey / @amorak.bsky.social 🌷

Congrats! And beautiful cover!

Ope hahaha

no but this is so real it hurts

Picture of a page from poetry collection "Mouth" by Amorak Huey. Ode to the Seediest Motel in Kentucky We find each other here, down the hill from an abandoned mall -- so much space we no longer use. We have never felt more American. But we could make this work. A rootless life. Dirty carpet & the song of passing traffic. What if there were no one waiting anywhere? No home but hope? No highway out of these bodies, no checkout time, no exit but the end of the world?

"but hope? / No highway"

👏 @amorak.bsky.social

Made myself sad thinking about Laika and decided to make others sad, too. New flash out with the wonderful @jmwwjournal.bsky.social!

Restriction isn't good enough. Reassigment and retirement isn't good enough. Abolition and trials.

Nuremberg trials for ICE is the moderate position

Preventing ICE from murdering civilians could have a chilling effect on future presidents’ ability to terrify the nation with a secret police force.

The Fourth Amendment to the US Constitution states,

“The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation..."

This is a photo of someone being tortured, not someone being restrained

Rejections need to be less effusive. I can't tell what is tiered and what isn't.

Congrats! Gorgeous cover.

I've either finally broken free from my crippling caffeine withdrawals, or the decaf I had this morning was, in fact, caf.

ORACLE AT DELPHI. The virgin priestesses kept getting raped by the pilgrims so later the job was filled by noblewomen of a certain age, prescient & unfuckable, high on volcanic fumes or maybe something in the water, but anyway given to confusing interpretations of the word of Apollo because who knew what went on inside the head of a god. Inscrutability is 90 percent of divinity or maybe it’s more like the entire burrito of mystery meat from that taqueria I suspected of conducting ritual animal sacrifice out back where something was constantly burning & smelled bad. Religion smells bad almost everywhere though originally it might have been okay until the priests got hold of it.

A lot of goats died at Delphi. Historically, a lot of gods died or got rebranded, then Jesus showed up & went viral & now some people believe in trees, some in one-eyed demons, some in nuclear superiority. The future is anyone’s guess. O ancient Pythias, Vedic astrologers, gifted psychics available online 24/7, what does this hexagram on my forehead portend? Where can I afford to live unmolested by rent raises, extreme weather events, strangers at the door at three a.m. asking for someone named Veronica? For here there is no Veronica. Only me & my ineluctable shadow holding aloft its Magic 8 Ball, searching for the weak Wi-Fi signal. In Delphi

the annoying tour guide, a proud Athenian, expressed her scorn for all things not Greek as she led our group sweating up Parnassus in the sun. She believed in her troubled country. Coming back down we heard singing I might describe as angelic, if I believed in anything as whack as angels. It was an old man in shredded trousers & a mariner’s cap with a face like a half-smashed tomato. He was playing a tzouras, a small, six-stringed, plaintive instrument, & was soon harassed from the roadside by three cops on motorcycles. Who can tell his fate? Wherever he is, may he be adored by the flowers at his bare & dirty feet. Kim Addonizio

“The virgin priestesses kept getting raped by the pilgrims / so later the job was filled by noblewomen of a certain age” —Kim Addonizio, “Oracle at Delphi”

ugh i hate AI
and applying for these jobs
rather be a fish

30 years ago they were like we have to ban song lyrics for the children but it’s full steam ahead for the here’s how to do drugs until you die machine

Aimee Nezhukumatathil on the cover of the January-February issue of The American Poetry Review.

Let Us First Bend Space and Time Fine, let's rewrite the rules of physics if that's what it takes. You wrench the known universe to fit around our groping bodies, I'll warp these scant hours we can neither create nor destroy into a heat we can, at least, hold. Loss is how we know we're alive. Chaos is how we know we're in love. Where the light enters the gaps in the thicket of everything — let this be the star-stained sky you ink in my skin.

“Chaos is how we know we're in love.”

Truly an honor to have two short love poems in the new issue of The American Poetry Review. Here’s one —