1. She kissed him, hard and fast enough to hurt the mouth and leave the lips stunned, jumping up like a startled spider or a small hyperactive dog and immediately disappeared from the frame of his reference. She was no longer an object suitable for his contemplation and she left in her wake a tangible absence not completely unlike a vacuum, but smellier. 

    And messier because the true test of love is if you can win the lawsuit by keeping the living lover’s mouth shut about the sex she once had with the dead one. Slung over her shoulder you might dismantle the boulder of a bad law’s passing but you won’t get round the bend on your horse. Certainly not if you don’t fill up on hors d’oeuvres first, before you go, and at least try to learn and accept that the gross junk is the best part of intimacy. 

    I want you to see my holes, look through to the other side of the bathroom mirror where the cobwebs and spiders live in squalor amongst studs and wires and from which we are loyal and watching. Happy day of love everyday, my darling. Please, try not to be so paranoid.

    words by me, photo selection (from Knight magazine, 1967  by hookersorcake (thanks!)


  2. sometimes, perhaps more often than we realize, the most useful perspective and approach is a sideways one

    when choosing which
    are pertinent
    what is
    the rubric
    and when you spin
    them round
    to oblong squares
    is that when
    something crooked
    this way
    comes sideways


  3. lost lines found

    exchange materials transported
    horizontal or vertically
    create a square with four sharp corners
    mirrored they make a cocaine party

    Blow on the hop-trip
    Calypso coming up in vapors
    Get me a gutter—get me scoff/hedge
    lost lonely in dashes of paper fledge 

      ~~  lost lines found collab kick King Stimie at howitzerliterarysociety & trixclibrarian. yeah. 


  4. Amorous: Waves against damp ancient stone

    in collaboration with kripigrey

    I dive blindfolded
    Into your torment
    It is not that I don’t fear
    But pain is my instinct

    A torrent you are
    In water strong of me
    Within our body an island
    Where I befriend fear
    Plenty of roomy laps here
    Wide enough for yours in mine

    Feed a cove of solitude in this
    Joining such curious bravery

    From endless depth
    Blue explosions
    Infinite divine openings
    Heaven promised
    Welcome to the
    Endless circle
    That opens
    Vortex impossibility
    Succumb me
    Through to
    Turbulent flow
    Viscous friction
    Like curled toes

    Her coarse
    Surrendering fire
    My sire
    I address
    Your rank
    With defiant eyes
    Daring stares
    Thrust Authority
    Against us

    she is a whirlpool. she draws me in. 


  5. docmarek:

    i. (docmarek)

    I never save my
    fortune cookie papers
    for myself but rather
    for the busboy
    (who I’m certain doesn’t
    save them because he
    didn’t crack the cookie
    so they don’t pertain
    to him),
    and of course I’m the
    only one at the table who
    enjoys the cookie because
    they’re usually plain and
    I guess I’m just that kind
    of person.
    But I guess I should maybe
    focus on the papers,
    save them just in case
    I need to roll something or
    something happens and then
    I can say
    “I knew it!”,
    because as with all
    prophecy, it’s alright
    if it never happens- 
    like the weatherman,
    that doesn’t make you wrong,
    you’re not a bad prophet.
    Fake your death &
    change your name.
    Move to a faraway place
    and start over by hitting
    and holding the restart
    button in the back of your
    mind for three seconds or
    however long it takes to
    get clean and clear headed
    and naked,
    butt ass fucking naked
    in front of God & everyone

    ii. (trixclibrarian)
    Because my mom
    and my grandma
    and my great grandmother
    and all the good working hard
    ethics protestant guarantees
    of protest-anti-ups 
    were wrong when
    they said the things you are
    too lazy
    to worry about beforehand
    compose your tragedy.
    Raising me 
    to sift my imagination
    to the task of
    conjuring potential disaster
    to ward it off 
    the ward of life 
    in sanity.
    Since post-hoc professions
    of premonitions are
    never believed
    I preemptively jinx 
    bad leaves 
    with loud prophecy
    “I have a bad feeling…”
    Then you’ll see,
    it never happens.
    Because otherwise everyone
    would know of 
    psychic me so
    I’d be forced 
    to runaway
    right click and hit
    my left-handed heart
    so god & everyone
    can’t see
    my superstitions
    saving the world.


  6. the want {for joy}

    people were made to fall in love with
    conveniently also to fall in love
    these are the terms of the hardware dear
    evolution in bodies and brains steered us clear
    of survival in isolation
    no options
    human folks come together
    whispering from our pores
    calling through closed doors
    life mocks us
    as we fit each other

    *this is a collaborative hijack: HUGE amazingly awkwardbiglove thanks to Joy! who invited us all to hijack her amazing lines: here… and in italics above

    i mussed them up just a tiny bit but that leaves room for the rest of you to take advantage of the opportunity. Joy, you are one amazing tumbling woman. I can’t say how…happy comforting it is to see you here each day. <3 jillc


  7. oh! and of course…there was snatch last night :)

    it was truly a divine collaboration so I wanted to share the love this morning with T at xtremewriting

    xtremewriting & trixclibrarian:

    i like to speak
    v a g i n a
    in public
    people stare
    i don’t care
    with cock talk
    we women want
    our share
    of bare naked

    for example
    dare we say
    how we play
    when we lay
    on our tummies
    and diddle our bits
    why is that more shocking
    than the shite
    porn is hocking



  8. snatching words

    i like to speak
    v a g i n a
    in public
    people stare
    i don’t care
    with cock talk
    we women want
    our share
    of bare naked

    for example
    dare we say
    how we play
    when we lay
    on our tummies
    and diddle our bits
    why is that more shocking
    than the shite
    porn is hocking

    when i talk vagina
    why do I get
    evil eyes
    from the ladies
    but men
    it makes them
    they praise me
    for being so brazen
    but i’m cravin’
    open vagina talk
    with women
    let’s open our mouths
    and dig in
    over lunch over brunch
    no munching required
    to love cunt

    when everything is
    i want my own
    representation of power
    destroy half the towers
    and replace them
    with bulbous

    what exactly are you scared of
    i dare ya’
    the question is simple
    why do we leave you
    all so speechless

    Recently, the amazing Tiffany at xtremewriting and i were snatching cocktails together and this collaboration was born. The words and our conversation and our amazingly great {big female} brains were entwined too much to sort out each letter and we both loved it so much we’ve each posted it ~ so you all should like mine and hers: here. Besides, her blog is fabulous. So, please, check it out. 

    awkward<3 jillc


  9. do what you need, now honey, take what you like

    fingers dug into the sad
    held on forsake of life
    sick of snatching
    purses of
    i took what i mistook
    for life
    to be
    what i thought
    i ought not
    to be
    bled it to the sound
    of the ocean
    in shells
    fell into
    the span of no shame
    blamed the first
    lamb i came
    fearless and restless
    near the heart
    of ever gone
    and fed it to the goats
    who made the
    of chewing down
    my gripping fingers
    of sadness

    collab with cordx inspired (with permission) by a post from shakespearneverdidthis 


  10. undressing her soul {hers & his visions}

    smut warning —> this was a great fun collab with crazy-clementine. he gets all the credit for the prompt in which he gave me the mood and the parameters of the roles for the sexy stuff. i wrote an introduction (no disembodied smut on our blogs!) and it is posted here:

    undressing her soul {an introduction}

    then I wrote the female side (immediately below) of the smut - which is raunchy and thus a little funny and awkward (I *did* write it afterall). below that you’ll find the male perspective by c-c. his is not funny at all but rather very hotly romantic so please scroll down and check it out. also please check out his blog - he is a human ray of sunshine beaming through the internet with love love love and peace for all-kind. i adore him - like any oldish lady would ;p and i think everyone will.

    undressing her soul {her vision}: (click here for trixclibrarian’s words)

    undressing her soul {his vision}: (crazy-clementine's words - below)

    He reached out for her. To touch her, to feel her warm flesh under longing cold palms. The air around her was filled with static, sending small shocks through his body giving life to a mini forest of hair on his arms. He wanted to feel who she was. This attraction was too much to bare. His eyes danced all over her heavenly frame, admiring every curve. She was perfection.

    Read More


  11. poetdreamer:


    This is tumblr.

    This is our heart and soul.

    This is a mirror for all.

    This is eternal, and fleeting.

    It continues to find new friends from among the voiceless.

    This is tumblr.

    she flies away

    like a

    butterfly on fleeting broken wings

    (via mismatchedsheets)


  12. Undertaking (Collab with Trixclibrarian) {reblog reprint*}

    had to reprint this reblog of a short story I did with Kalen at truthinsilence because I wanted the full-text on my blog, too. <3

    Undertaking (Collab with Trixclibrarian)

    There are very few things in this world that compliment a cloudy night like a pencil skirt and black heels. With a sharp clack with every step, the heels walked down the cement sidewalk as a sheep does, alone in the woods. Her head twisted from side to side, searching for something familiar, something that wasn’t so confusing. He, from high atop the adjacent building looking upon the lost lamb in heels sighed softly, as a lover might, curling finally into a growl. A tongue darted out, wetting lips that were never dry, never less than perfect; tonight was going to be a good night.

    The air had a sort of ominous feel to it, the breeze smelling of ash and old wood, smiled on by a brightly lit moon. It was one of those scenes than poets and writers dream about as they scribble about in their notebooks.  The predator dropped from the roof with a whisper, landing just before the unfortunate young lady. He stepped from the shadowed alley, his grin was a swirl of lust and violence.

    Ah, but up close he was forced into a stunned double-take the instant he laid eyes on her face for she was not the lovely victim he had seen or thought he’d seen (how lazy of him) from above. For, yes, she was a gem indeed, but of a totally unforeseen breed. There was two of her there in the same single space, shifting into and out of existence alternately, just like a holographic sticker.

    One image flicked in the moonlight, the other danced, perfectly still. Eyes like emeralds stayed the same, but she, they, never lasted more than a moment. He stood there entranced in those green whirlpools that sucked him deeper, and deeper into the abyss. His breath escaped as a sigh, long and orgasmic, he never saw the stake, only felt its gentle embrace. Their eyes never left his, not even as the blood from his veins poured over the ashwood.   “Pax cum vobis,” whispered one, “Peace be with you,” the other.


  13. truthinsilence:

    There are very few things in this world that compliment a cloudy night like a pencil skirt and black heels. With a sharp clack with every step, the heels walked down the cement sidewalk as a sheep does, alone in the woods. Her head twisted from side to side, searching for something familiar,…

    so much fun to work and write with Kalen, *sir* :D thank-you so ever very much for the opportunity. most gracious awkwardness & big<3<3<3


  14. right in our lifetime

    As I stepped
    in the shower
    this morning,
    I slipped on my righteousness
    and hit the slick surface again
    (I’ve had lots of practice).

    Squirmy and cruel,
    my teeth gnashing tinfoil,
    I clutch at truth
    like a small, drowning octopus
    in my palm.
    An offering to the air,
    swept from its watery sea home
    (I *am* so good).
    A seductive sensation:
    frantic legs,
    and tentacles slick,
    suckers pressing my thumbs.
    I win when he dies.

    My righteousness, it’s that.
    Icky and useless and vain.

    So I release.
    I let go with my brain.
    In a living meditation
    kept below the neck.

    And next? A shower like rain.
    Glass-pattered consciousness
    fresh. Down the drain.
    All new, as experience grips me.
    Leaning toward the sink to brush my teeth,
    there is an expression
    of joy in the shape of my collarbone.
    I see it, and it shows
    in my face.

    kholinar the magnificent has fixed my broken poem - I am so terribly pleased and gracious and I adore what he’s done with it. I *need* this poem right now. Thank you so much, kholinar, from the very bottom of my humbled heart. truly, jillc

    the original (mess):http://trixclibrarian.tumblr.com/post/20053107587/right-in-my-lifetime


  15. coffee haiku (collab with gravity whale)

    dark morning kisses
    warm scents on sunlight dancing
    coffee on the stove

    resistance fails me
    I sip and bow my head low
    hail gracious brewer

                       ~~~collaboration with gravity whale (in italics)