I was in high school when I first saw Staceyann Chin perform, barefoot and incensed. She was fearless in her rage, her sexuality, her eloquence. Now, I feel the same reading her as I felt watching all those years ago — as if I’m being granted permission.
Amber Dawn and Justin Ducharme just dropped the first poetry anthology written by self-identified sex workers. Fifty-six self-identified sex workers from across North America, Europe, and Asia are featured. All of them are a different facet to the story that policymakers and social workers and Hollywood never told quite right.
We stay open, even when our minds are swayed by bitterness and despair, because our queer lives depend on knowing that we don’t have to live like this. We turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking.
H.D. sometimes had a fraught relationship with her own bisexuality, feeling pulled towards either lesbianism or heterosexuality rather than feeling her queerness as an integrated whole. Reconciling her bisexuality was a creative project for her.
Maybe if trans women can redefine what it means to be close to nature we can also redefine what it means to be close to each other.
A gut feeling is intuition, sure, but it’s also something that announces HERE is the body, NOW is the body, RIGHT NOW.
It’s June, it’s June, we’re living, it’s June. Do you feel our powers rising with the heat, our stares lengthening with the daylight, our desires coming on like freak lightening?
The line breaks are hard to take. They make the poem feel like a fight: not knowing when to stop, talking over one another, losing your thread, gasping for air through tears.
“Corpse Flower” gathers those petals, each one placed on the altar as every word is placed in the poem. The sweetness of a petal curling up to touch itself.
Bishop wrote seventeen drafts of this poem, so that’s one hundred and thirty six iterations of master and disaster. The losses pile up in a life, and each time you survive them, you have proven to yourself you can withstand more.
So much of what we might think of as queer lyric poetry comes is set by Sappho’s example: her attempts to speak her desire so emphatically that it wills love into existence.
Mary Oliver, Pulitzer Prize-Winning poet and ardent devotee of the natural world throughout her life, has passed away from lymphoma at the age of 83.
Mary Lambert talked to Autostraddle about vulnerability, the impossibility of separating the art from the artist, and her incredible new book of poems.
The same people who published the unnecessary and homophobic Nashville Statement last year are at it again, this time with the Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel. Here’s a blackout poem that’ll let you know how Christians who don’t have a skewed understanding of our faith feel about social justice and the gospel.
Drive Here and Devastate Me, queer femme author Megan Falley’s fourth collection of poetry, is a love letter to the queer community. We talked with Megan about her writing process, femme invisibility, body politics, and of course, love.
In an unsafe world, we have to make our own survival packs. Carry the words of these 100 fierce poets in yours.
This round we cover Benzos, google doodles, tide pods, venmo emojis, and more!
This round we cover tardigrades, flirting via Instagram stories, profile bios, the Miranda of websites, and more!
here’s a fun idea
mass text your tinder matches
boom, pop up gay bar
This round we cover @horse_ebooks, Mike Pence’s horse tweet, beige cardigan, astrological autofills, and more!