Brooke Manning is a lovely lady who, amongst other things, curates and publishes OLD Quarterly, a Toronto-based literary journal filled with amazing words and images. I understand that we’re primarily a photo-blog, but this zine is actually important, and I feel as though the majority of you are interested in words. We recently both showed at Zine Dream 2, and I was so awed that I decided to ask her to share a few words… and all I can say in response is “Exactly.”
I am having trouble answering this.
I have stared at this question for 17 minutes.
I wrote once:
if there is a secret to my being
it is that i rarely feel human
i don’t know what’s happening but
my feet hurt
and there is blood in my
.. so I will put that.
send me your marrow
there’ll be certain bloodshed
and i’ll fed the hungry
with all that’s inside me-
i don’t think in assertion
and i’d like to not own myself anymore…
(perhaps i can’t tell what WHAT is anymore?)
blessed my marrow
library books in elevens
mail souls back to owners
dog food (the good stuff)
locate shadows in paradise in room (pay fine if located)
-check in that stack over there-
stout (please)- non of that flavoured shit either-
i don’t care if gluten hates my guts
i am stomached from gin-
meet at ‘I
I will kiss you like you don’t have lips.
My arms so sweater’d but I’m not complaining.
Only if there is need.
Can I have you when
this world is over?
You can have me
now or later or never-
just lend me your mind at least for just