Megan Falley's Blog, page 71

"If you live off a man’s compliments, you’ll die from his criticism"

“If you live off a man’s compliments, you’ll die from his criticism”

- Cornelius Lindsey (via caffeinatedinsight)

buttonpoetry:Rachel McKibbens - “The Giver"We’re extending...

buttonpoetry:

Rachel McKibbens - “The Giver"

We’re extending the EP Chapbook Contest (judged by Rachel McKibbens!) through July 31st! Huge thanks to everyone who’s submitted so far. Check out more info about the contest (and prizes) here.

Submit to this book contest, writerly-friends!

"I loved him mostwhen he came home from work,his fingers still curled from fitting pipe,his denim..."

“I loved him most

when he came home from work,

his fingers still curled from fitting pipe,

his denim shirt ringed with sweat

and smelling of salt, the drying weeds

of the ocean. I would go to him where he sat

on the edge of the bed, his forehead

anointed with grease, his cracked hands

jammed between his thighs, and unlace

the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles,

his calves, the pads and bones of his feet.

Then I’d open his clothes and take

the whole day inside me— the ship’s

gray sides, the miles of copper pipe,

the voice of the first man clanging

off the hull’s silver ribs, spark of lead

kissing metal, the clamp, the winch,

the white fire of the torch, the whistle

and the long drive home.”

- Dorianne Laux, The Shipfitter’s Wife (via liquidlightandrunningtrees)

this is my favorite poem

BAKERSFIELD, 1969

I used to visit a boy in Bakersfield, hitchhike 
to the San Diego terminal and ride the bus for hours 
through the sun-blasted San Fernando Valley 
just to sit on his fold-down bed in a trailer 
parked in the side yard of his parent’s house, 
drinking Southern Comfort from a plastic cup. 
His brother was a sessions man for Taj Mahal, 
and he played guitar, too, picked at it like a scab. 
Once his mother knocked on the tin door 
to ask us in for dinner. She watched me 
from the sides of her eyes while I ate. 
When I offered to wash the dishes she told me 
she wouldn’t stand her son being taken 
advantage of. I said I had no intention 
of taking anything and set the last dish 
carefully in the rack. He was a bit slow, 
like he’d been hit hard on the back of the head, 
but nothing dramatic. We didn’t talk much anyway, 
just drank and smoked and fucked and slept 
through the ferocious heat. I found a photograph 
he took of me getting back on the bus or maybe 
stepping off into his arms. I’m wearing jeans 
with studs punched along the cuffs, 
a t-shirt with stars on the sleeves, a pair 
of stolen bowling shoes and a purse I made 
while I was in the loony bin, wobbly X’s 
embroidered on burlap with gaudy orange yarn. 
I don’t remember how we met. When I look 
at this picture I think I might not even 
remember this boy if he hadn’t taken it 
and given it to me, written his name under mine 
on the back. I stopped seeing him 
after that thing with his mother. I didn’t know 
I didn’t know anything yet. I liked him. 
That’s what I remember. That, 
and the I-don’t-know-what degree heat 
that rubbed up against the trailer’s metal sides, 
steamed in through the cracks between the door 
and porthole windows, pressed down on us 
from the ceiling and seeped through the floor, 
crushing us into the damp sheets. How we endured it, 
sweat streaming down our naked bodies, the air 
sucked from our lungs as we slept. Taj Mahal says 
If you ain’t scared, you ain’t right. Back then 
I was scared most of the time. But I acted 
tough, like I knew every street. 
What I liked about him was that he wasn’t acting. 
Even his sweat tasted sweet.

—Dorianne Laux, from The Book of Men (W.W.Norton, 2011)

Write Bloody Bitches.

Write Bloody Bitches.

"I want to live in an honest housewhere the motion detector is so sharpit knows when my thoughts..."

“I want to live in an honest house

where the motion detector is so sharp

it knows when my thoughts leave the room.


I want a clap on lamp that works as a polygraph;

when you swear you still love me, the lights flicker.”

- Megan Falley, “The Honest House" (via nps2013)

Redhead and the Slaughter King

REDHEAD AND THE SLAUGHTER KING

is the official name of my second full-length collection of poetry, to be published by Write Bloody Press in 2014! I am so excited about the arrival of my second born. 

In the meantime, however, my first collection of poetry with Write Bloody is still wild and wanting. If you don’t already have a copy of After the Witch Hunt, you can pick it up at Powell’s or on Amazon or request your local bookstore to bring in some copies if they don’t already carry it!

You could also get an autographed copy from me if you bring me to your city on my next tour. You can wrangle me in by sending a sweet e-mail to meganfalley@gmail.com

poemsbydes:I’ve got 99 problems and rape culture is all of them.

poemsbydes:

I’ve got 99 problems and rape culture is all of them.

"Indeed, this is why women have so many clothes! We need an all-purpose black skirt that does old..."

“Indeed, this is why women have so many clothes! We need an all-purpose black skirt that does old fashioned, another one to do proper, and a third to do flirty… at the very least… and all in casual, business, and formal. And we need heels to go with each (stilettos = provocative, high heels = flirty, low heels = proper, etc, plus we need flats for the picnics and beach weddings etc). And we need pants that are hemmed to the right length for each of these pairs of shoes. You can’t wear black shoes with navy pants, so you’ll need to double up on all these things if you want any variety in your wardrobe. I could go on, but you get the picture.


Women’s closets are often mocked as a form of self-indulgence, shop-a-holicism, or narcissism. But this isn’t fair. Instead, if a woman is class-privileged enough, they reflect an (often unarticulated) understanding of just how complicated the rules are. If they’re not class-privileged enough, they can’t follow the rules and are punished for being, for example, “trashy” or “unprofessional.” It’s a difficult job that we impose on women and we’re all too often damned-if-we-do and damned-if-we-don’t.”

-

Lisa Wade (via thefemcritique)

Yep, I have clothes I only wear for job interviews & meetings. I don’t even like them, but I know I need them to get ahead in my career.

(via karnythia)

Never really thought about this until I started buying clothes to wear to court. Then I added some shoes to make those court clothes good for nights out, and other shoes to make my casual-but-not-too-casual clothes work appropriate. And then I bought stuff (shoes and accessories) to make my court clothes double as slightly-flirty nights out clothes. (Because my nights out aren’t all that provocative, or super flirty, anyway.) And then I’m staring into my closet like, …Where the hell did all this shit come from?! Here’s the answer. 

(via hoomie)

Also the reason why women will look at what looks like a closet full of stuff and say “there’s nothing here for me to wear”. They really do mean it; there’s nothing there that they can wear that will count as “suitable for the occasion”.

(via malikaeshan)

Not to mention that most women of size that I know, myself included, are constantly fluctuating in size and shape. So even though I have $200 worth of clothes from my job last summer, my hips are wider/waist is narrower/breasts are smaller and a lot of it no longer fits in a way that’s professionally acceptable

(via rockandrollwinterfell)

Miles Walser: URGENT: Transwoman or Genderqueer actress needed for a Write Bloody film project on Monday in NJ.

Miles Walser: URGENT: Transwoman or Genderqueer actress needed for a Write Bloody film project on Monday in NJ. :

mileswalser:

Write Bloody and I are creating a mini-movie for one of my poems, which looks at the trans experience from a masculine and feminine perspective, so it’s important to us to cast this role correctly and not rain cis/straight privilege all over the place.

The role will involve shooting scenes of…