The gospel of compost is isn’t a story of the permanent triumph of life over death, but of the eternal interconnectedness of life and death, of joy and defeat, of loss and fulfillment. And ultimately, it is a story of love. Love for the world right here, right now, in all its glorious messiness.

Fitting Into Gender Categories As A Non-Binary Person (From Nox)

Everyone was a cancer patient and everyone was--like all those people who go to cancer hospitals, have the best care in the entire fucking world and don’t make it--going to die. This was an all-consuming thought. And really, what was the point of it all? Why had I bothered to go through all that, if it was just going to be a less intense version of that for the rest of my time alive?

a poem from Rex Butters

“To write is to claim the audacity to speak and the courage to yield, to dare for a moment to care for ourselves in speech, in writing, and in solitude.”

a poem from Twm Gwynne

The crust peels back and all-women are looking into a burning pit of rage…

“The homeless are seen as an entity, some dirty mass of otherness"

I've discovered a thick bell inside of me
that elegiac poetry rings
a terribly deep booming
knell