Anonymous said: I found you again. I had forgotten about you, just for a while, but I remembered you and I came back. And thank goodness I did because your words, your words, Kristina: they are what everyone should come back for. I want to come back, the real me, the 'me' that I like, the one that believed she was worthy of love. I am going to get her back. Thank you, beautiful, clever, true girl.

This has been the lump in my throat for the past week.

fhauly said: why the shipfitters wife? :)

It’s my favorite poem by my favorite poet, Dorianne Laux. Gently suggest that you read her work. She’s ace.

Anonymous said: i don't even know you and i miss you

C’mere so we can hold each other


Maya Angelou

We write in darkness. We love
in alleys. We breathe into beige
paper bags. Anything to mollify
the confusion. Anything to simplify
the math.

Bill Yarrow, “Bees in the Eaves,” published in Mad Hatters’ Review (via bostonpoetryslam)

thank you if you have stayed with me for this long. i am looking at this space and i am not sure about the furniture or the paint. the floors need to be scrubbed. the plants should probably be tossed. i am slowly coming back but it’s difficult readjusting when outside life has been so good to me.

my ask box is unapologetically open if you need me. xo


Friendzone ideology isn’t attacked because “nice guys” are comical or because fedoras make a funny meme, it’s because this logic is literally dangerous. This logic of “gentleman = deserving sex” breeds hatred of women, and brutal violence against women, and if a 22 year old self-proclaimed “supreme gentleman” murdering 6 in a campus shooting spree because of sexual rejection doesn’t drive that home, I don’t know what else would.

I am so sad and I am so angry and I am so sorry.

i kiss you like how a forgotten painting in a pretty room feels
i’m saying look at me
but people close their eyes when they’re kissing
& sometimes when they’re not

Kayla Day, “love poem #4554”

Nema-ye Nazdik (Close-up), Abbas Kiarostami (1990)

I go everywhere and want to be kissed.
What does it say about me that I change my
perfume every time I get a new boyfriend?
Lately I walk to places with headphones on
and let myself be sad when the music says
I should be.

Click Here To Help Clementine Pay Her Medical Bills!


Dear Community,

As many of you know, I have been struggling with my health a lot in the past year. I was diagnosed with a chronic illness that has severely limited my mobility and landed me in the hospital with a septic infection.

We’ve made a fundraiser page to help alleviate the cost of my recovery over the next few months. If it is at all within your means, any support would be appreciated. We have put together a lot of really cool presents and prizes for donating with the help and generosity of my friends and fellow poets at Where Are You Press, my friends and community here in Portland are also organizing a benefit for Friday, May 9th called Porchlight Semantics, please consider coming out and supporting our show if you are in the area!

I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for the love and support I have gotten so far. I am increasingly aware how much being able-bodied for the first 20 years of my life was a privilege, and how much it enabled me to go out and build the support system I have today. My community is loving and generous, and this experience has been so humbling and taught me so much. I believe we need to look out for each other and support each other, and I thank you so much for your help.


P.S. Whether or not you can support, please like/reblog and share! It makes a huge difference, I promise.

Three friends look down from a balcony in New Orleans, 1960

by Ernst Haas

Happiness was wiping my lipstick off of his cheek.

Kristina Haynes, excerpt from “I Should Tell the Truth More” (via electrichoney)