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homo homini lupus est

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death

Dispossession.

November 30, 2022November 30, 2022 / April Joy / 2 Comments

Well, hello again. It's been awhile. I've been stuck in a state of indecision and lethargy and not entirely certain which path to take. I've decided to take all of them. Simultaneously, or as close to that as the linear process of writing will allow. I'd tell you to buckle up, but you're already buckled, … Continue reading Dispossession.

So. Here we are.

June 27, 2022 / April Joy / 1 Comment

So.We’re here, using whatever we can to justify the killing of the unborn — unwanted, special needs, birth defects — that’s quite a loaded one, the last one. Let’s talk about it. I’ve got some things to say. I was adopted at 3hrs old. My parents waited 7yrs for me. My sister is their biological … Continue reading So. Here we are.

Catalysts are made to be burned.

September 9, 2021July 3, 2022 / April Joy / 1 Comment

I do not want this. With every fiber of my being, I do not want to be here. The heat. The ants. The fucking gravestone that I refuse to maintain. I never bring flowers. I shouldn’t have to. I should not have to come here. For fuck’s sake. It’s hot and humid today; the marble … Continue reading Catalysts are made to be burned.

There is yet faith.

March 31, 2021March 31, 2021 / April Joy / 5 Comments

She would be 20.

And let my cry come unto thee.

August 30, 2020March 31, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. “The surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very … Continue reading And let my cry come unto thee.

Thinking about stuff at 3am.

July 27, 2020July 27, 2020 / April Joy / 1 Comment

Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something. The Dying Gaul. I can't sleep, even though I would really love it. My mind spins when everything is quiet, and I usually try to distract myself to get it to stop. But I've got Kaleo's All the Pretty Girls stuck in my head, … Continue reading Thinking about stuff at 3am.

memento mori.

April 22, 2020August 16, 2020 / April Joy / Leave a comment

In which I try with limited success to avoid the cliche of Hamlet's most famous soliloquy.

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the wasteland

“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
“They called me the hyacinth girl.”
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

the archive

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marina

This form, this face, this life
Living to live in a world of time beyond me; let me
Resign my life for this life, my speech for that unspoken,
The awakened, lips parted, the hope, the new ships.
What seas what shores what granite islands towards my timbers
And woodthrush calling through the fog
My daughter.

burnt norton

And the old made explicit, understood
In the completion of its partial ecstasy,
The resolution of its partial horror.

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