The Fishs Desire

The Fish’s Desire

by Shuzo Takiguchi

Virginal decorations.

The pain of countless upside-down candles.

The branches and flowers of transparent trees.

The rumble of infinity’s mirror

and the sudden spasm of house windows.

My whole body.

In the fossilized water that brightens day by day

my desire still swims.

I, bastard child of the giant chandelier called the blue sky.

No one calls me the sphinx of love.

In a jasper fable, my dream

glittered all the more blue.

—Translated from the Japanese by Mary Jo Bang and Yuki Tanaka

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“Fire in Paradise” 

by. Alastair Gee

Practical Self Reliance

60+ Nasturtium Recipes ~ Food, Drinks, Remedies & More

Nasturtium recipes can be hard to find, and even those gardeners that know nasturtiums are edible tend to just snack on them right out in th

Nasturtium majus is the indigenous species for where I live in TX. This might be a tasty addition to my garden. I'm open to foraging, but the foraging in practice might be more dangerous with so many unknown factors. I don't know how many of my neighbors, or the city parks and recs, spray pesticides or herbicides.

i love you to the moon &

not back, let’s not come back, let’s go by the speed of 

queer zest & stay up 

there & get ourselves a little 

moon cottage (so pretty), then start a moon garden 

with lots of moon veggies (so healthy), i mean 

i was already moonlighting 

as an online moonologist 

most weekends, so this is the immensely 

logical next step, are you 

packing your bags yet, don’t forget your 

sailor moon jean jacket, let’s wear 

our sailor moon jean jackets while twirling in that lighter, 

queerer moon gravity, let’s love each other 

(so good) on the moon, let’s love 

the moon        

on the moon

Poem by. Chen Chen

Cultivation

by Dorothea Tanning

Cultivating people can be arduous,

With results as uncertain as weather.

Try oysters, meerkats, turnips, mice.

My mouse field was a triumph of

Cultivation—pink noses poking

Through quilts of loam, scampering

In the furrows—until the falling

Dwarves (it was that time of year)

Began landing on my field. Fear for

Its harvest had me down on hands

And knees muttering, “Not here,”

My nails clawed at tangles of fat

Dwarves crushing mouse families.

Then, unbelievably, it was over.

By morning every dwarf, maddened

By nibbling mice, had fled the field.

Now, as before, each day, dozens

Of perfect mice leave for the city.

There, they have made many friends

Among computers, and with them

Are developing skills inconceivable

To their forebears. Already, these

Cultivated mice and their computers

Penetrate guilty secrets. Soon they will

Prevail over the turmoil that defines

This darkest of ages. And they will

Find me, asleep in my cave.