Ooft, yes, thank you 💛. Siken has a way of reaching inside us, cracking open our chest, and naming the feral and impossible thing. Sometimes I will come across a sentence of his and I'll have to sit down on the floor. He knows how to stick the landing. Perhaps one of the greatest contemporaries of our time:
I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room
where everyone finally gets what they want.
You said Tell me about your books, your visions made
of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is
the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you
there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar
cube... We were in the gold room where everyone
finally gets what they want, so I said What do you
want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am
leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome
burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack,
my silent night, just mash your lips against me.
We are all going forward. None of us are going back.
my favourite poem is still, i think, snow and dirty rain by siken
Ooft, yes, thank you 💛. Siken has a way of reaching inside us, cracking open our chest, and naming the feral and impossible thing. Sometimes I will come across a sentence of his and I'll have to sit down on the floor. He knows how to stick the landing. Perhaps one of the greatest contemporaries of our time:
I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room
where everyone finally gets what they want.
You said Tell me about your books, your visions made
of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is
the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you
there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar
cube... We were in the gold room where everyone
finally gets what they want, so I said What do you
want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am
leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome
burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack,
my silent night, just mash your lips against me.
We are all going forward. None of us are going back.