I was involved in the serious business
of ripping apart my own body.

I’d run my fingers over it,
seeking but never finding

the right point of entry,
so having to tear one myself,

though midway through
I’d always tire,

and let night enter
like a silver needle,

sewing my eyelids shut.
This was not an original practice,

but thinking, for a time, that it was
felt like being able to choose

when spring would arrive:
engineering an April

that opened like a parasol,
even in the roughest winter.

Sara Peters

can’t get any worse

January 4, 2020

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, you run out of cigarettes

Carol Aird
Carol

I’ll tell you something of the forbidden horrors she led me into – something of the age-old horrors that even now are festering in out-of-the-way corners with a few monstrous priests to keep them alive. Some people know things about the universe that nobody ought to know, and can do things that nobody ought to be able to do.

H.P. Lovecraft
The Thing on the Doorstep

like a ravenous wolf

January 4, 2020

She said to me, this pretty girl in the beach bar:

“Por algum motivo não consigo ficar longe de você.”

I replied with a shrug, as if this were an everyday occurrence for me:

“Fine. Está bem!”

Later, after we’d finished our drinks, I took her to my tiny room which was smaller than Harry Potter’s staircupboard and eat her out like a ravenous wolf. It was the first act in a play of good sex and long conversation that lasted all through the night. In the morning, before she left, she said:

“Sexo oral resolve muita coisa.”

Her laughter followed her down the stairs like the sound of fairy bells. It was a sound that enchanted me – made me glad to be alive. And the taste of her, still on my tongue, was the taste of pure wickedness!

P

believe in everything

January 4, 2020

‘If a man wishes to write and…convey a sensation of horror, he must believe in everything — and anything. By anything I mean the horror that transcends everything… He must believe that there are things from outer space that can reach down and fasten themselves on us with a malevolence that can destroy us utterly…’

Frank Belknap Long
The Space-Eaters

imitating yourself

January 4, 2020

When you sit down to write a poem, you really don’t know where you’re going. If you know where you’re going, the poem stinks, you probably already wrote it, and you’re imitating yourself. You have to follow where the poem leads. And it will surprise you. It will say things you didn’t expect to say. And you look at the poem and you realize, ‘That is truly what I felt.’ That is truly what I saw.

Philip Levine
So Ask: Essays, Conversations, and Interviews

If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of the iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water.

Ernest Hemingway
Death in the Afternoon

sooner be eaten by you

January 4, 2020

“Please,” she said, “you’re so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I’d sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else.”

C.S. Lewis
The Horse and His Boy