Megan Falley's Blog, page 99

UNASHAMED: A Purely Materialistic & Accidently Hip List of Things I Want For Christmas But We BROKE!

bicycle. with basket for a puppy.
record player. sweet fuzzy music.
typewriter. loud word thunder.
an enviable assortment of teas.
wardrobe a la starlets of mad men.
(www.modcloth.com)
beautifully written books.
essie nail polish.
box set of six feet under.
more puppies.
many more korean spa days.
and then i will have everything.
thank you santa.

Jon Sands Interviews Patricia Smith and the Whole World Makes Sense Again

Jon Sands Interviews Patricia Smith and the Whole World Makes Sense Again:

laurenzuni:

“Once I was in a middle school in Chicago, supposedly doing poetry. The kids weren’t havin’ it. I was an interruption in their day, welcome (because they didn’t have to do any work) but resented (who did I think I was?). I spent the whole time waxing poetic to the disinterested throngs, working hard to pull them in with ANYTHING, but they’d already made up their minds. Blanket rejection. Glaring.

 Gumpopping. Tooth sucking. Muttered invectives. In other words, POET FAIL. I dragged through my time there, already wondering what I’d done wrong and what I could do to be better. The last bell rang, I headed for my car. Just as I put my key in the lock, one of my most vehement antagonists (“You ain’t my mama. You can’t make me listen to nuthin’”) came up and pressed something into my hand. I was startled at first, and I’m ashamed to admit that I thought he was going to mug me. Instead, I looked at the sweated, folded up little piece of paper he’d urged into my hand. I knew without looking that it was a poem, a spectacular risk for him, something he couldn’t admit to in the presence of his peers. That hot little connection, palm to palm, reeking of desperation and beginning? Religion.”
 - Patricia Smith

"You were last seen walking through a field of pianos. No. A museum of mouths. In the kitchen of a..."

“You were last seen walking through a field of pianos. No. A museum of mouths. In the kitchen of a bustling restaurant, cracking eggs and releasing doves. No. Eating glow worms and waltzing past my bedroom. Last seen riding the subway, literally, straddling its metal back, clutching electrical cables as reins. You were wearing a dress made out of envelopes and stamps, this was how you travelled. I was the mannequin in the storefront window you could have sworn moved. The library card in the book you were reading until that dog trotted up and licked your face. The cookie with two fortunes. The one jamming herself through the paper shredder, afraid to talk to you. The beggar. Hat outstretched bumming for more minutes. The phone number on the bathroom stall with no agenda other than a good time. The good time is a picnic on water, or a movie theatre that only plays your childhood home videos and no one hushes when you talk through them. When you play my videos I throw milk duds at the screen during the scenes I watch myself letting you go — lost to the other side of an elevator — your face switching to someone else’s with the swish of a geisha’s fan. My father could have been a travelling salesman. I could have been born on any doorstep. There are 2,469,501 cities in this world, and a lot of doorsteps. Meet me on the boardwalk. I’ll be sure to wear my eyes. Do not forget your face. I could never.”

-

new york craigslist > personals > missed connections  (via bambiguts)

to attribute this correctly - this is by megan falley. 

see! published in June 2011 Literary Bohemian 

http://www.literarybohemian.com/poetry/poem/new-york-craigslist-personals-missed-connections-by-megan-falley/

i’m like the credit police and i got to make sure megsy gets her credit!

(via tracysoren)

THANK YOU. I am so happy that this poem I wrote is getting lots of attention (almost 10,000 notes!!!) but it wasn’t until a close friend of mine saw it on her dashboard that anyone thought to credit the author. Come on, TUMBLR !

bedroomsandbattlescars:The lovely Megan Falley with the Write...

bedroomsandbattlescars:

The lovely Megan Falley with the Write Bloody horse WOO!

What is that face I am making? I don’t know! You don’t know! Nobody knows man

Met this lovely human who has a leg tattoo as an homage to some of her favorite Write Bloody poets! How badass is Kayla??

Best sex scene in TV history amen.

Best sex scene in TV history amen.

It was so awesome to see you in Phoenix - I could have listened for another hour at least. Thank you so much and come back soon!

You too! I adored Arizona and would love to come back, maybe pose with a cactus, read some more poems..

Hi. I love you. Thank you for existing.

I will redirect this thank you to my father who approached my mom on an otherwise empty train and asked if the seat beside her was taken. I will thank my mom for responding “it’s a free country.” Because that’s how babies are made. 

And you, I love you too!

outsidewarmafghans:from neon issue 29

outsidewarmafghans:

from neon issue 29

"I was a waiter in a 24-hour restaurant when the first few poems of mine started showing up in..."

“I was a waiter in a 24-hour restaurant when the first few poems of mine started showing up in magazines. After the bars closed, people would stream in, drunk. Some of them I sort of knew. ‘Hey, it’s that guy! Why don’t you recite a poem for us while you get our cheeseburgers!’ At the bank once, when the teller at the window recognized my name: ‘I really love the part where your boyfriend dies and you’re really sad.’”

- Richard Siken, interviewed by Legacy Russell for BOMBlog (via bostonpoetryslam)

"I do believe that the most valuable way to become a skilled writer is to read. Not just poetry books..."

“I do believe that the most valuable way to become a skilled writer is to read. Not just poetry books either, but novels of all varieties, newspapers, blogs, subtitles of foreign films—I think even the pulpiest of literature can shape our art. At the most basic level we learn what works and what doesn’t, but further we can see where others have stretched to understand the boundlessness of our own craft. Writing without reading is like trying to become a chef without tasting others’ food.”

-

Megan Falley, self-interview on The Nervous Breakdown (via bostonpoetryslam)

Quoted for saying something mildly academic somewhere.