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Elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious

December 3, 2022December 2, 2022 / April Joy / Leave a comment

Workout buddies. "This is my favorite kind of workout," I text my workout partner, planning his own workout on the other side of the country. "Prolonged discomfort." I wipe the sweat off my face, feel it pool in the crooks of my elbows. I bump up the resistance on my bike, (bad knees from weightlifting … Continue reading Elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious

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.

Let go.

September 19, 2021September 19, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

“Let not future things disturb you, for you will come to them, if it shall be necessary, having with you the same reason which you now use for present things.”Marcus Aurelius I am tired of reaction. I grow weary of anticipating disaster. I do not want to cease thinking rationally, but would like to avoid … Continue reading Let go.

Monsters and ash.

September 18, 2021September 18, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

A modern day woman with a weak constitution 'cause I've gotMonsters still under my bed that I could never fight offLana del Rey, "hope is a dangerous thing" Here's the thing: we all have monsters we can't fight off. None of us is special in this regard. We aren't going to ever conquer our monsters … Continue reading Monsters and ash.

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.

En robe de parade.

August 17, 2021August 17, 2021 / April Joy / Leave a comment

Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.

Thoughts on Sigrún and Sigyn.

August 4, 2021August 26, 2021 / April Joy / Leave a comment

Love conquers nothing.

Thinking makes it so.

July 10, 2021July 10, 2021 / April Joy / 2 Comments

Automat, Edward Hopper. For years I’ve wanted to live according to everyone else’s morals. I’ve forced myself to live like everyone else, to look like everyone else. I’ve said what was necessary to join together, even when I felt separate. And after all of this, catastrophe came. I must rebuild a truth — after having … Continue reading Thinking makes it so.

The Deep Despair/Hope of Holidays Alone

July 4, 2021July 4, 2021 / emily29red / 1 Comment

Emily’s first End of Line post!

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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

  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • September 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • December 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • January 2020
  • July 2019

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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