portal for creative expression
She turned her attention to me one last time, pushing me hard against the old stones to look deeply into my eyes. Her pale green irises seemed especially bright against the wet, black lashes.
“Merci,” she said, her features softening. And then she released me.
by Penelope Fate Through the sand and down streets all of them paved with truthTruth that marches to its beats, Tarine the muse leads…
Between my thighs is the warm shadow of lips,And the erotic curves of fear, beauty, myth, lustgrowing a plant of such medicineall healing starts…
this video, unassuming and imperfect as it is, recorded on the front camera of my iphone, is a good faith deposit in the co-creative witching well of my wildest dreams: a world where i am a publicly prolific, multi-hyphenate, professional artist, embraced first and foremost by my own self, published + propelled forward into center stage by my own will and that of the audience + artists who resonate with my transmissions, eager to hold me accountable for never again hoarding my treasure chest of gifts…
by Maggie the Bartender Pay me what you owe mecuz you owe me a lot,you owe me for that trip to Cancunand that plastic…
by Jana Astanov Was she the goddess of hell,some geomancyinvoked by boulders to birthher fertile soils’ rotational epochsblack gold thenraised from the prehistoric ashes?…
by Jana Astanov nightlyshe’s the gardenof flashing eyesthe honeyed dew of the female organum her sex she’s a bird of paradiseher writing her nestwhere…
by Shanice Ariel Who Will Save The Children Sun burns as the ashes peel off. There is a heavy weight in our bodies as we…