Rachel Loden
rloden.bsky.social
Rachel Loden
@rloden.bsky.social
1.1K followers 2.2K following 110 posts
Poet. Author of HOTEL IMPERIUM, DICK OF THE DEAD, poems in Journal of the Plague Years, Paris Review &c.
Posts Media Videos Starter Packs
Pinned
A few years ago I filed a series of Freedom of Information Act requests for the SS-5 applications of a number of dead poets. The SS-5 is the form that individuals must fill out to obtain a Social Security card. (1/8)
Possibly the fuzziness and puffiness of the image and the facelessness of the figure?
Or how about
Gone with the Blowing in the Wind
Something's Got to Give Me Hives

Mad Maxipads

The 400 Blows Chunks

War of the Rose Gardens

Baby Went Boom

Ida Rather Not

Marvin's Dorm Room

Gone With the Breaking Wind

Bringing Up Someone Else's Baby

Annie Hall Monitor
At a particularly dark time in high school, my best friend said “Nothing can go really wrong as long as there are trees.”
Swinging gibbets! What a wonderful word. (Spellcheck wants me to say “Swinging fibbers” which is good too)
… the White House of future poems, and of dreams and dramas, there in the soft and copious moon—the gorgeous front, in the trees, under the lustrous flooding moon, full of realty, full of illusion—under the stars and sky—the White House of the land, and of beauty and night— (WW)
the walls also—the tender and soft moonlight, flooding the pale marble, and making peculiar faint languishing shades, not shadows—everywhere a soft transparent hazy, thin, blue moon-lace, hanging in the air
(WW)
Walt:

THE WHITE HOUSE BY MOONLIGHT
February 24th.—A spell of fine soft weather. I wander about a good deal, sometimes at night under the moon. Tonight took a long look at the President's house. The white portico—the palace-like, tall, round columns, spotless as snow—
Can we dance?
I for one think the Epstein Ballroom will be magnificent. I love the decor theme of “what if Uday Hussein ran a Ramada Inn.” And giving it a theme song everyone will associate with it is a stroke of brilliance! “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” is very catchy.
Thanks, John. I knew you’d have the skinny.
Is there anything we could have done?
When it didn’t recover we buried it underneath our pomegranate tree, the green sheen fading but a characteristic purple neck band now more visible.
This shiny black hummingbird with a green back flew into my husband’s shop and tried to make its way out through the skylight. We left the door open, hoping it would find its way out but later found it on the floor, stunned or dead.
The “mops” poem absolutely puts me away. Thanks, John.
I wonder what Blake might have made of that: “The lineaments of Gratified Desire.”
I wonder what Blake would have thought of that: “The lineaments of Gratified Desire.”
And then there’s Wallace Stevens who said (and would say) that “money is a kind of poetry.”
If there is no money in poetry, neither is there poetry in money. Robert Graves, i think
And then there’s Wallace Stevens who said (and would say) that “money is a kind of poetry.”
Yes, the fingers. His pinkie is oddly bent and so is mine.
It’s not me though, the long distance child. It’s my sister.
I’d kill to make 8K from poetry.
“I hate writing, I love having written," (attributed to Dorothy Parker). But I like writing even more than having written because “having written” means dreaming about publishing, about “markets,” and that drops me down rabbit holes of despair.