After the poetry reading when someone suggests going to the bar

whatshouldwecallpoets:

notwithstanding the foregoing: Also, a lot of poetry just confuses me. →

littleorphanammo:

I try. I try to understand but metaphor wrapped in simile wrapped in allegory wrapped in analogy is too hard.

I feel like we need a poetry Tim Gunn to come in and tell people when they need to pull it back because it’s overworked.

Some of it is magical and wonderful and…

#yes nicole I’m talking to you

The dream of America’s Next Top Poet lives on! Or Project Poetry?

I’d volunteer to be Tim Gunn but that means I would have to be nice. I’d rather be Heidi Klum. “WE ASKED YOU FOR A CHARMING SESTINA AND YOU GAVE US A DULL, LIFELESS PANTOUM. YOU ARE OUT. AUF WIEDERSEHEN. RELEASE THE HOUNDS.”

absurdical asked: tell me about the time
i went for a reading there, we (not you, others)
went to hear our friend
in his neckbeard stage
(you can still be on a stage, in a stage
aren't we all on a stage
but that would mean i listened in grad school
shakespeare and his stage
shakespeare and the globe
shakespeare and his boy
shakespeare and his girl
i didn't even watch branagh's hamlet
but i saw it on tumblr)
tell me how the back room wasn’t ventilated
and everything sounded better as the flopsweat suffocated us
and then we had vodka
and beauty

for your consideration, pulitzer judges.

(The Stranger)

omg, the last one.

GPOYFMIIPLFTK

(Gratuitous Photo Of Your Finished Manuscript In Its Protective Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper)

That last post brought to you by seventeen76 asking me for some of my favorite lines of poetry and me realizing that all of my favorite poems are basically depressing as FUCK except for O’Hara.

tous en greve: Write a Haiku about the item on your right →

turnabout:

librarianpirate:

neonloneliness:godiseven:spandexual:iambickilometer:callmekitto:kryptongirl:lecorbeau:samflynn:flyicarus:chichacabron:chicharina:dekutree:

 My Sweet Pea lotion

Bath and Body Works:

You keep my hands soft.

six small paper stars

a better nervous habit

than biting my nails.

half metre canvas
on which I shall be painting
if I find some paints

my leviathan
engine roaring, noisy com
adorned with my crap

the techno neighbours

live but a thin wall away -

they need new music.

Boxcar children book
Missing many pages
Goodbye, cruel lib’ry

I kept my Swingline

It’s not okay, I’ll set the

building on fire.

Hand sanitizer:
probably useless but I’m
hella paranoid

View high resolution

oh, stfu.

View high resolution

thedailywhat:

SMBC.

Except I’m still angered by the misspelling of ELIOT. ARGGGG.

(Source: thedailywhat)

I want to belong to a “school” of poetry.

Any ideas?

Starbucks School? Guilty Pleasure School? School of Malaise and General Disinterest?