Angel

On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs by Renée Nicole Macklin i want back my rocking chairs, solipsist sunsets, & coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of cockroaches. i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores (mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic himalayan salt lamp— the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind): remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs inside my nostrils, & salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms. under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study&repeat ribosome endoplasmic— lactic acid stamen at the IHOP on the corner of powers and stetson hills— i repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe my gut— maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul. it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead. can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the classroom now i can’t believe— that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”— all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as: life is merely to ovum and sperm and where those two meet and how often and how well and what dies there.

A poem by the late Renée Good. Titled “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs” published by poets.org

May she rest in peace.

#poetry #blueskypoetry #reneegood

On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs by Renée Nicole Macklin i want back my rocking chairs, solipsist sunsets, & coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of cockroaches. i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores (mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic himalayan salt lamp— the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind): remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs inside my nostrils, & salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms. under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study&repeat ribosome endoplasmic— lactic acid stamen at the IHOP on the corner of powers and stetson hills— i repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe my gut— maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul. it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead. can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the classroom now i can’t believe— that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”— all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as: life is merely to ovum and sperm and where those two meet and how often and how well and what dies there.

A poem by the late Renée Good. Titled “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs” published by poets.org

May she rest in peace.

#poetry #blueskypoetry #reneegood

🤣

The Anthem A mom boards up her apartment in Mexico Anxious, loading kids into the car An elderly lady takes the keys and pats her hand “I’ll keep an eye on it til you get back.” Someone kneels at a crosswalk on a cold New York day Hungry, hands clasped A man comes out of a restaurant “Hey! Waddaya wanna eat?!” A small girl cries under the hot Brazilian sun Tired, blushing from the heat A vendor stands up from selling water bottles to tourists “Take my chair, sit in the shade.” A cook in Georgia knocks on a neighbor’s door Late, catering truck won’t start A Bosnian man comes out with jumper cables “I’ll give you a jump.” The world over In every language Working class folks sing the same song “Today you, tomorrow me.”

A poem about travel and the working class.
#poetry #writing

Thank you kindly ❤️

Good morning ☀️

Facts

Happy Halloween 🎃💖

Thank you, I really appreciate that. Not a fan of gooeyness myself haha

I do love when ghosts are described not as terrors, but as who they likely were in life: smiles, songs, and often pretty mundane.

Its starkness, tone, and even the vertical columns created by the format almost create a sense of a wall that the victim has put up between themself and what was done to them. Beautiful and heartbreaking.

Thank you so much ❤️

Thank you!

❤️

😂

The Old Guard Ancient medicine says disease Comes from ghosts in your blood. Well I don’t feel sick… But I can feel them in there. I’ve no need of ofrendas Or flores de cempasúchil. They are right here. The floor is cold, put on socks mija. She looks hungry. Offer her food. This needs more salt… And when life aims to cast a fatal blow, They race through my veins, Turn tender flesh to bronze, Turn tattered fists to gauntlets. They whisper. We’ve survived worse. They scream. ¡Partele su pinche madre!

A poem about family and the people who give me strength.

And a second submission for #poemsabout #blood
Thanks @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk
#poetry #poetsofbluesky #diadelosmuertos #mexican

* Thanks @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk

I didn’t know they sold costumes of me.

😂

💯

Buenas noches 🌙

flyyyy

💖💖💖

Post soup pics 🍲

Consolation I look up to you in your golden tower Bought in blood and bones Feeling no comfort nor faith That one day you will atone. But I have one single thought, Always warms my broken heart. Time is just. And one day we’ll both be dust.

A poem about power.

And a submission for #poemsabout #blood Thanks @alanparry83.bsky.social and @brokenspinearts.bsky.social
#poetsofbluesky #poetry #tyranny

With SNAP benefits expiring, help keep families fed this holiday season by calling and emailing your governor. Ask them to feed folks by:
- declaring a state of emergency
- using the national guard
- calling a special session

Let’s do a good deed today ❤️
#snapbenefits #governmentshutdown #snap

I’ll be back writing more poems as soon as I come up with another good one.

In the meantime I’ve been making TikToks and playing #pokemongo , feel free to look me up over there @brutally.kind

Thank you so much ❤️