#larissa szporluk

[luthienne]

Larissa Szporluk, from Dark Sky Question; "Solar Wind"

[bodyalive]

Body lines ( light and shadow ) :: (by Matthew Fang)

* * * *

It is dark inside the body, and wet, and double-hearted. There are so many ways to go, and not see, and lose the feeling of the thread... and never reach the fabled center.

By Larissa Szporluk "One Thousand Bullfrogs Rejoice" quoted in "Writing and the Spiritual Life" by Patrice Vecchione So Many Ways to Go Larissa Szporluk Inward/Outward

[thensson]

The sky knows all my heart

Invitation, Mary Oliver || @bebx || Collapse, or Ode to Atlas, @orpheuswasabird || Prowler's Universe, Larissa Szporluk

[ghost4ghosts]

Larissa Szporluk, "Nihilist" from Traffic With Macbeth

[text: If I pushed my face into the dirt and gulped, I could wash this shame a little off. end text description]

[violettesiren]

There is no sound at all on this wild upland. The horses have stopped falling in their great arc through the air. The panic that carried their necks over the crag became, early on, in their legs, regret. The dark knowing that spoils the morning enters them now, showing them how, like a difference in contour, they weren’t the real power of the field. How their bearing was minor, their bones meaning more to the earth than what each aloof mane in the wind had been. Their eyes, which before were clear, crowd like the fleas madness brings, as she notes in the noonday heat how each part lies, spread across rock, like her own in that scene, half-girl, half-cow, the cloud half off.

Io Remembers by Larissa Szporluk

[appy]

"Dark Eros", by Larissa Szporluk

She smirks, sets herself up on a cinder cone--How does it feel, she asks the old mountain, to have no choice but to feel? Succuss of Anoton's glottis. Rumbles, plutonic debris. Feel this, she hisses into his sphincter, then does something evil with fruit--oh, the power to cry! Oh, to be able to cry! His mouth is under the sea now. The past is a quasi-fetish. I was only a child, but my obsession with you was divine.

[luthienne]

Jack Gilbert, from“Alba” / Larissa Szporluk, from "Prowler's Universe"

[tupelopress]

Let's call on the plasmoids to splotch up their picnic. Let's snow ultraviolet so they grow extra limbs. Let's give vegetables sex lives, grill them flagrante. Let's unite the divided so the shy one crawls back to his witch, so his witch can flog him hill sunrise. Let's be lenticular, delicate. Let's stretch over Norway. Let's terrorize swing-sets, yank down some knee-socks, fondle some calves. Let's cause some trauma. Let's hide all their gods. Let's extend civil twilight, rattle a private, scour and wax it. Let's not let them think we're just passing.

"Mother-of-Pearl Clouds," Larissa Szporluk, Embryos & Idiots

[aiw0205930901]

“But sometimes I pause in an unforeseen calm. I don’t care what I am.”

Larissa Szporluk, “Windmill,” from Backwards City Review

[literarymiscellany]

But sometimes I pause in an unforeseen calm. I don't care what I am.

 Larissa Szporluk, "Windmill," from Backwards City Review.

[hush-syrup]

I’m cuckoo-true, a blood and thunder freedom monger.

From Cuckoo by Larissa Szporluk

[prairielights]

JANE MEAD, LARISSA SZPORLUK & HEIDI JOHANNESEN POON April 30, 2014 - 7:00pm Prairie Lights Poets Jane Mead, Larissa Szporluk, and Heidi Johannesen Poon will read.

Disclosure thingy: Jane Mead is co-owner of Prairie Lights.

[hiveandwarehouse]

Villain Horizon by Larissa Szporluk

Moles vibrate the world. I lie in the soil and wait. There’s a military reason for their holes. Golden Alexander, Golden Alexander, your little golden head will need some protection when the heavens crumble. A fish would tell you water, but ask any mole— darkness is the helmet when darkness is the culprit that will guard you most. The trees step in close. There are towers in their shadows, full of forest flowers, and beyond them, a whole city built by blind things that I govern with an eyeball lest a modicum of sunshine creeps in to untie you. from Anti-

[wellconstructedsentences]

How easily our loved ones leave us, speeding into sunsets, maiming us with absence.

Sea Lettuce by Larissa Szporluk

[a-romatherapy]

Sunflower//Larissa Szporluk [video by Henry Hahurski]

I've never thought of a voice as beautiful...until now.  It's just so unbelievably gentle with all the right emotions subtly there.  Then there was the music: soft, gentle, comforting. Just perfect really.  The poem is just exquisite. Short and simple. With the kick at the end.  I think I'm in love. [watch it] 

[gregallyn]

Larissa Szporluk, "Ceremony Turtle"

We are born in the bed of the body. We bear that bed until the world comes around and tortures out our flavor. And what is structure then but ready grave, and what is story then but same sham outcome? My little face is like a moon potato, tubes climbing out of it, beholden to the great moon potato loser I gawk at on my back as fireballs and masks dip into my murder. My vest is wrested off-- my heart has tiny flippers! It buoys up like God, then boils into garnish, the tiny thing my life was doing, fetus of good news that kept me swimming in reflections of the hilltops in the lake, whose sunset crowns I'm wearing now, aloft on a blood-red wave.