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header from “the transformation of silence into language and action” by audre lorde
header from “the transformation of silence into language and action” by audre lorde
But she didn’t say anything or answer any more questions and she slept alone. And I’d thought she wanted to love me and make a home with me! All those kisses. Kisses are liars, like actors and writers.
December 2, 2025 at 6:01 AM
But she didn’t say anything or answer any more questions and she slept alone. And I’d thought she wanted to love me and make a home with me! All those kisses. Kisses are liars, like actors and writers.
And then you see it. As it strangles and beats your friends to death... the sweetest most courageous people in the world. You see the fear and power in its eyes. Then you know. That the bourgeois are not human.
December 2, 2025 at 5:01 AM
And then you see it. As it strangles and beats your friends to death... the sweetest most courageous people in the world. You see the fear and power in its eyes. Then you know. That the bourgeois are not human.
You have a sense for the black things, Sparrowhawk, said the Doorkeeper. You ever did.
December 2, 2025 at 4:00 AM
You have a sense for the black things, Sparrowhawk, said the Doorkeeper. You ever did.
Hector, this is Florence. Hector, are you there? We’re coming for you, Hector, I promise. Hector.
December 2, 2025 at 2:57 AM
Hector, this is Florence. Hector, are you there? We’re coming for you, Hector, I promise. Hector.
A matronizing silence. She wanted Baru to answer, and being a school-taught fool Baru couldn’t help but do it.
December 2, 2025 at 1:57 AM
A matronizing silence. She wanted Baru to answer, and being a school-taught fool Baru couldn’t help but do it.
Tain Hu’s ghost hand cupped the right of her face.
Go away, Baru thought. I’m bruised. You’re hurting my eye.
But the hand would not go.
Go away, Baru thought. I’m bruised. You’re hurting my eye.
But the hand would not go.
December 2, 2025 at 12:57 AM
Tain Hu’s ghost hand cupped the right of her face.
Go away, Baru thought. I’m bruised. You’re hurting my eye.
But the hand would not go.
Go away, Baru thought. I’m bruised. You’re hurting my eye.
But the hand would not go.
Mabel Martin, what do you see in the heart of the collapsing star?
This house. The kingdom beyond the firmament. I saw you. I saw you. I saw you.
This house. The kingdom beyond the firmament. I saw you. I saw you. I saw you.
December 1, 2025 at 11:58 PM
Mabel Martin, what do you see in the heart of the collapsing star?
This house. The kingdom beyond the firmament. I saw you. I saw you. I saw you.
This house. The kingdom beyond the firmament. I saw you. I saw you. I saw you.
Is there a pill for when the image of a trumpet vine comes into your head? Will it erase it? Erase the voice saying, You should kiss me like it’s good-bye? Erase the tuxedo jacket, or at least the face above it? Erase the whole nine years?
December 1, 2025 at 10:57 PM
Is there a pill for when the image of a trumpet vine comes into your head? Will it erase it? Erase the voice saying, You should kiss me like it’s good-bye? Erase the tuxedo jacket, or at least the face above it? Erase the whole nine years?
Name a day, name an hour, in which Arthur Less was not afraid.
December 1, 2025 at 9:56 PM
Name a day, name an hour, in which Arthur Less was not afraid.
The outside world has no roads. But you can always build new roads.
December 1, 2025 at 8:57 PM
The outside world has no roads. But you can always build new roads.
Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet. 1977, May 3, six thirty in the morning, no one knows anything but this innocuous fact: Lydia is late for breakfast.
December 1, 2025 at 7:55 PM
Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet. 1977, May 3, six thirty in the morning, no one knows anything but this innocuous fact: Lydia is late for breakfast.
Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet. 1977, May 3, six thirty in the morning, no one knows anything but this innocuous fact: Lydia is late for breakfast.
December 1, 2025 at 6:51 PM
Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet. 1977, May 3, six thirty in the morning, no one knows anything but this innocuous fact: Lydia is late for breakfast.
But you can make it funny. You can make anything funny.
December 1, 2025 at 5:52 PM
But you can make it funny. You can make anything funny.
But I had always been, first and foremost, a weapon. A machine meant for killing.
December 1, 2025 at 4:51 PM
But I had always been, first and foremost, a weapon. A machine meant for killing.
You can live wherever you want to live. Be whoever you want to be. You have time.
December 1, 2025 at 3:52 PM
You can live wherever you want to live. Be whoever you want to be. You have time.
But now I understand that this is the role of a prophet. We translate the truth that has infected us. We find a way to pass it on to others.
December 1, 2025 at 2:51 PM
But now I understand that this is the role of a prophet. We translate the truth that has infected us. We find a way to pass it on to others.
Florence… I think they’re from there! Not you, not me- but… top level? We’re echoes of this place. Of Bluffington. They’re the water dropping in the pond.
December 1, 2025 at 1:50 PM
Florence… I think they’re from there! Not you, not me- but… top level? We’re echoes of this place. Of Bluffington. They’re the water dropping in the pond.
I've dreamt of that for years.
Dying?
Running.
Dying?
Running.
December 1, 2025 at 12:46 PM
I've dreamt of that for years.
Dying?
Running.
Dying?
Running.
They are in the middle of time. In the beginning there was the sun and the ice, and there was no shadow. In the end when we are done, the sun will devour itself and shadow will eat light, and there will be nothing left but the ice and the darkness.
December 1, 2025 at 11:45 AM
They are in the middle of time. In the beginning there was the sun and the ice, and there was no shadow. In the end when we are done, the sun will devour itself and shadow will eat light, and there will be nothing left but the ice and the darkness.
There is language enough to describe it, but going there is beyond language, so mostly I don’t. I don’t know how to belong to the story in a way that doesn’t betray it.
December 1, 2025 at 10:42 AM
There is language enough to describe it, but going there is beyond language, so mostly I don’t. I don’t know how to belong to the story in a way that doesn’t betray it.
We all can’t be like you! I wish we were all rose-colored too, my rose-colored boy.
December 1, 2025 at 9:43 AM
We all can’t be like you! I wish we were all rose-colored too, my rose-colored boy.
“Horrors,” said Elphaba.
It was her first word, and it was greeted with silence. Even the moon, a lambent bowl among the trees, seemed to pause.”
It was her first word, and it was greeted with silence. Even the moon, a lambent bowl among the trees, seemed to pause.”
December 1, 2025 at 8:42 AM
“Horrors,” said Elphaba.
It was her first word, and it was greeted with silence. Even the moon, a lambent bowl among the trees, seemed to pause.”
It was her first word, and it was greeted with silence. Even the moon, a lambent bowl among the trees, seemed to pause.”
This is kind of how we get through our lives: we tell ourselves stories so that what’s happening becomes something we can live with. Necessary fictions.
December 1, 2025 at 7:39 AM
This is kind of how we get through our lives: we tell ourselves stories so that what’s happening becomes something we can live with. Necessary fictions.
In the end, all girls are like the Rose Bride.
December 1, 2025 at 6:36 AM
In the end, all girls are like the Rose Bride.
Fifty is nothing. I look back at fifty and think, what the fuck was I so worried about? Look at me now. I’m in the afterlife. Go enjoy yourself.
December 1, 2025 at 5:38 AM
Fifty is nothing. I look back at fifty and think, what the fuck was I so worried about? Look at me now. I’m in the afterlife. Go enjoy yourself.