Many thanks to the good people over at The Good Men Project, for publishing The Octogenarian Asks the Feminist Sex Educator, a poem in which (according to their website):
Alice Isak raises important questions
about consent
and what it actually looks like and means.
[I really love this tagline description, for whatever reason! Makes me feel all full of important and impactful questions!]
TGMP has a lovely poetry series, which you can check out here. If you do decide to head over for a little poetic Monday reading, please consider paying a visit to my friend S‘s lovely love poem, Stars–They’re Just Like Us, in which she “uses a familiar image in a fresh, stunning, sustained way.”
And how are all of you? I’m curious what impactful questions you’d like to raise today. About sex or about poetry? About something else? About how to handle the familiar feeling of a Monday morning in a fresh and sustaining way?
[See, this is why I don’t write taglines. I managed to alter that perfectly delightful series of words just enough to make it sound like a reference to feminine hygiene products, didn’t I? Oops.]
Talk about these things! Or don’t. Whatever makes you happy. Life is short.
[EDITED: Confession — I actually wrote this poem not so much to “raise questions” as to “transcribe almost verbatim a completely sh*tb*lls wacko conversation.” Just so’s we’re clear.]
Congratulations on getting published over there. It’s a thought provoking poem.
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Thanks!
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Is everyone dealing with bad humidity? I feel like mother nature is trying to drown the Chicago area!
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Or maybe she just wants you all to turn into guppies!
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*gulping for air* — Would (gasp) gills (gasp) help?
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Also, what aquatic/reptilian/amphibian adaptation can I get as a defense to all these mold spores in the air?
(Seriously, nature wants to smother me!)
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Personally, I’m thinking of moving to an ocean floor aquarium if the air in Philly doesn’t go back to being air soon. If I can find something with good closet space and a nice view, you’re more than welcome to join me on the lease!
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I hear they have a lot of vacancies in the Marianas Trench! 🙂
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I can’t think of anything of meaning or impact on such short notice. I am feeling pressure here. Hmm. Oh, I got it! Cosmetic surgery. Could a surgeon create a swim bladder and gills for me? I feel like I was a guppy in another life.
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Hmm. Wouldn’t gene splicing and/or other ethically questionable human-piscine manipulations be a better approach to this problem than cosmetic surgery? Inquiring minds want to know!
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Takes too long. We’re YEARS away from splicing the right genes. I don’t want to end up with extra-long nose hair.
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Ahh. Gotcha!
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Also, I feel like I should confess — having put you under such pressure, and first thing Monday morning no less! — I wrote this poem not so much to “raise questions” as to “transcribe almost verbatim a completely sh*tb*lls wacko conversation someone had with me.” It’s not NEARLY as imaginative as your Dreaming of the Guppy Life moment, just so’s we’re clear! 🙂
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I’ve had similar conversations with people who should know better. Today, even. I do not understand humans, hence my need to guppy it up.
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I don’t either. Okay. Guppies it is.
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