#natalie diaz
Natalie Diaz,fromThe Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones — : These Hands If Not Gods
[Text ID: “My hands are an archive.
What is archived is not the thing, but its existence, so its absence.
Even in absence there are atoms. I name these atoms. My Alexandrias. Mis bibliotecas. My burning downs.”]
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i don’t know who i am
hieu minh nguyen this way to the sugar (via@luthienne) \ via@zuvson\ natalie diaz postcolonial love poem: “postcolonial love poem” (via@beingharsh) \ salman toor the star (2019) \ elena ferrante the story of a new name \ adonis selected poems (tr. khaled mattawa)
From “The Cure for Melancholy Is to Take the Horn”
… Brodsky said, Darkness restores what light cannot
repair. You thrilled me—torn to the comb
I want everything—the ebon bull and the moon.
I come again for the honeyed horn…
Our bodies are nothing if not places to be had by
as in, God, she had me by the throat,
by the hip bone, by the moon. God,
she hurt me with my own horns.
From “Snake-Light”
I can read a text in anything.
To read a body is to break that body a little.
From Natalie Diaz’s Postcolonial Love Poem(Graywolf Press, 2020)
“God, she had me by the throat, by the hip bone, by the moon. God, she hurt me with my own horns.”— Natalie Diaz, The Cure for Melancholy is to Take the Horn(viasagmoonn)
