Installer ce thème
fuckyeahcatpaintings:

Katzenkonzert David Teniers

fuckyeahcatpaintings:

Katzenkonzert David Teniers

sterility:

be my little bug2014

sterility:

be my little bug
2014

electric-cereal:

Luna Miguel has new stuff out!
The first is in Powder Keg translated by Kimi Traube. It’s from La tumba del marinero (The Sailor’s Grave) and I only recently found out that the title is a Pynchon reference. Check it, first page of V.

My mother is a classical woman trapped in this classical world. My mother is patient and affectionate; she likes to cuddle me. My mother and I kiss each other on the mouth when we embrace. My Phoenician mother tried to describe Homer’s rosy-fingered dawn to me, tried to explain his metaphors and since then I haven’t known how to invent a single one. Maybe because I already learned them all years ago. Maybe because they all remind me of her. My mother didn’t read The Iliad to me, she read The Odyssey. How could I read you The Iliad, Luna? she’d say to me. It’s too bloody a book for a little girl! Too bloody? Too bloody?  Blood is the nectar of poets. All blood is worthy of a poem. All that menstruates is worthy of a poem. Too much blood for a girl who’s four or five or a hundred years old.

The second piece is in Buenos Aires Review translated by Julia Ostmann. A lit mag I like a lot but I don’t check often enough. I’m not sure where this piece is from. Maybe from Los estómagos (The Stomachs) or it could be completely new.

I can invent a lullaby for deaf children, the only thing missing is a voice, the only thing missing is a long neck where we can resound. I can say that we are scared. I can say that hunger is an invention of our teeth so they don’t feel so alone. I can write the word cancer a thousand times, because cancer reproduces a thousand times. It is a relentless killer, and I am also a relentless killer, and I swear I will get my revenge. I can dream I’m kissing a made-up poet. I can dream I’m a drop of acid rain. I can use up all my Candy Crush lives until I finally feel that I have died. That I have died in the magical world of the candies. I can leave the gas on. I can light all the candles. I can invite domestic catastrophes, cut off my finger, or cut off my nipple, or cut off a single hair and afterward eat up all my remains.

electric-cereal:

Luna Miguel has new stuff out!

The first is in Powder Keg translated by Kimi Traube. It’s from La tumba del marinero (The Sailor’s Grave) and I only recently found out that the title is a Pynchon reference. Check it, first page of V.

My mother is a classical woman trapped in this classical world. My mother is patient and affectionate; she likes to cuddle me. My mother and I kiss each other on the mouth when we embrace. My Phoenician mother tried to describe Homer’s rosy-fingered dawn to me, tried to explain his metaphors and since then I haven’t known how to invent a single one. Maybe because I already learned them all years ago. Maybe because they all remind me of her. My mother didn’t read The Iliad to me, she read The Odyssey. How could I read you The Iliad, Luna? she’d say to me. It’s too bloody a book for a little girl! Too bloody? Too bloody?  Blood is the nectar of poets. All blood is worthy of a poem. All that menstruates is worthy of a poem. Too much blood for a girl who’s four or five or a hundred years old.

The second piece is in Buenos Aires Review translated by Julia Ostmann. A lit mag I like a lot but I don’t check often enough. I’m not sure where this piece is from. Maybe from Los estómagos (The Stomachs) or it could be completely new.

I can invent a lullaby for deaf children, the only thing missing is a voice, the only thing missing is a long neck where we can resound.
I can say that we are scared.
I can say that hunger is an invention of our teeth so they don’t feel so alone.
I can write the word cancer a thousand times, because cancer reproduces a thousand times. It is a relentless killer, and I am also a relentless killer, and I swear I will get my revenge.
I can dream I’m kissing a made-up poet.
I can dream I’m a drop of acid rain.
I can use up all my Candy Crush lives until I finally feel that I have died. That I have died in the magical world of the candies.
I can leave the gas on.
I can light all the candles.
I can invite domestic catastrophes, cut off my finger, or cut off my nipple, or cut off a single hair and afterward eat up all my remains.

New poem “You had glitter on your fingers” at The Buenos Aires Review
English version: 
http://www.buenosairesreview.org/2014/09/luna-miguel-2/

*
Nuevo poema “Tenías purpurina en los dedos” en The Buenos Aires Review.
Versión en español: 
http://www.buenosairesreview.org/es/2014/09/luna-miguel/

Gracias a Pola Oloixarac y a Fernando Montes

New poem “You had glitter on your fingers” at The Buenos Aires Review

English version: 

http://www.buenosairesreview.org/2014/09/luna-miguel-2/

*

Nuevo poema “Tenías purpurina en los dedos” en The Buenos Aires Review.

Versión en español: 

http://www.buenosairesreview.org/es/2014/09/luna-miguel/

Gracias a Pola Oloixarac y a Fernando Montes

<3 <3 <3 <3

happiness

<3 <3 <3 <3

and bad blood

http://www.powderkegmagazine.com/issue-one

thank you very much, Zoe & Kimi

beethoventhemovie:

luna miguel on instagram, facial cover art double time :)

beethoventhemovie:

luna miguel on instagram, facial cover art double time :)

andreii-tarkovsky:

in the mood for clean! 

andreii-tarkovsky:

in the mood for clean! 

ccmpress:

Peterbd predicts how everyone involved with 40 LIKELY TO DIE BEFORE 40 will die (before they turn 40).
Click to read the predictions
We’re coping.

ccmpress:

Peterbd predicts how everyone involved with 40 LIKELY TO DIE BEFORE 40 will die (before they turn 40).

Click to read the predictions

We’re coping.

publicpools:

Filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky’s Polaroid snapshots, taken at his home in Russia, and while traveling in Italy. A Russian photography blog has digitized a large collection of these photos (text in Russian). The Poemas del Río Wang blog has more (in English) about their origin.

publicpools:

Filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky’s Polaroid snapshots, taken at his home in Russia, and while traveling in Italy. A Russian photography blog has digitized a large collection of these photos (text in Russian). The Poemas del Río Wang blog has more (in English) about their origin.