
Coming to realize this regionalism might be a while lot more regionally specific than I thought so. Do you have a colloquial word for chipmunks or ground squirrels?
Coming to realize this regionalism might be a while lot more regionally specific than I thought so. Do you have a colloquial word for chipmunks or ground squirrels?
I utilized dall-e to create some images of men in nature, some in ritual. It's an interesting process, and the results are stunning.
amazing time seeing ezra furman last night
buckle up
it was a gender
top 10 photos taken hours before a tragic ending
after not sewing much in ??? months, i finally broke my dryspell
I think I would leave sunflowers and blackberries at your shrine. Perhaps goldenrod
Sun flowers and sun-mer berries for the sun gremlin familiar?
I bless your offering with a pressed penny bearing an entirely inscrutable image (although iirc, it's a picture of a pressed penny that is also stamped with a picture of a pressed penny that is stamped with a picture of a pressed penny that is stamp w...), and a secret handshake that you won't know until the moment you need it.
this is probably a longshot but recently I read a poem titled something like “the last thing she sees”……. and its like. from the perspective of a bird on a birdfeeder in someones yard… and the bird is the last thing that sees the person alive before they pass away / the last thing the person sees but obviously the bird has no way of knowing that. anwyays like. i have been thinking about it for two days straight but like a fool i neglected to save it and so now here i am on tumblr dot com asking if youve heard of this poem
FOUND IT!!!!!!! it’s called “Please Read” by Mary Ruefle:
I am the yellow finch that came to her feeder an hour before she died. I was the last living thing she saw, so my responsibility was great. Yet all I did was eat. Through eight long months of winter the black oiled sunflower seeds had gone untouched—not a single one of my kind or any other kind had approached them. It was too much work. Even if we’d had the strength—which we did not, half-starved as we were—we were not in the mood to crack anything. On the morning of the twenty-second of April she took them away and refilled the feeding tube with sunflower hearts—sheeny niblets whose hard outer husk had been stripped away by some faraway, intricate machine. She went back inside and waited. From my branch I could see her do the things she liked to do—she picked up a towel from off the floor, she filled out a card stopping the mail, she boiled water, she stared into space. She saw me coming. Her face flickered with, if not exactly joy, the ordinary wellspring of life. It’s true there was a sheet of glass between us. But I could see the seeds of her eyes and the upturned corners of her mouth. I ate a heart. I turned my head. She looked at me as if I were the last living thing on earth. And as I was, I kept on eating.
If I were a god or goddess, what offers would you leave at my shrine?
My inbox is hungry for asks :D
Laura Jane Grace - True Trans Soul Rebel (acoustic)
La pétrification de la papesse, 1945, Victor Brauner
https://www.wikiart.org/en/victor-brauner/la-p-trification-de-la-papesse-1945
got a nerd shirt
Jude and Ewan in bath, 2003 - Ph. Lorenzo Agius
dressed up for the first time in months to go zoom with a couple friends last night
Testimony by Joseph Fasano - Poems | Academy of American Poets
Testimony - If tonight the moon should arrive like a lost guide
If tonight the moon should arrive like a lost guide crossing the fields with a bitter lantern in her hand,
her irides blind, her dresses wild, lie down and listen to her find you; lie down and listen to the body become
the promise of no other, the sleeper in the garden in its own arms, the exile in its own autumnal house.
You have woken. But no one has woken. You are changed, but the light of change is bitter, the changing
is the threshold into winter. Traveler, rememberer, sleeper, tonight, as you slumber where the dead are, if the moon’s hands
should discover you through fire, lie down and listen to her hold you, the moon who has been away
so long now, the lost moon with her silver lips and whisper, her body half in winter,
half in wool. Look at her, look at her, that drifter. And if no one, if nothing comes to know you, if no song
comes to prove it isn’t over, tell yourself, in the moon’s arms, she is no one; tell yourself, as you lose
love, it is after, that you alone are the bearer in that changed place, you alone who have woken, and have
opened, you alone who can so love what you are now and the vanishing that carries it away.
so in the last couple of months two families i know have had children come out as trans, and i’ve offered to help the families find resources. aside from not always remember what i wish i would have known when i came out - i’m finding a lot of resources about parenting trans children that are written by cis people, or published by cis-led organizations.
does anyone have recommendations on parenting resources
1. written by trans people
2. published by trans-led orgs
TSER is there obviously, but i’m looking for resources for parents rather than teachers? and PFLAG & Gender Spectrum both seem pretty cis-lead.
kitchen witchen