vigorous
anal sex
crevasse
euphoria
frankenstein’s genitals
About the Author:
j/j hastain is a collaborator, writer and maker of things. j/j performs ceremonial gore. Chasing and courting the animate and potentially enlivening decay that exists between seer and singer, j/j, simply, hopes to make the god/dess of stone moan and nod deeply through the waxing and waning seasons of the moon.
When I say I lust for land I do not mean that I long to own it or even to top it. For me, lust is draw, indelible convergence. I want to converge so deeply with it that I am in fact indistinguishable from it: a land-miracle, a green that spins more green. I suppose it is most appropriate to say that I lust land as a way to invert losses of many types.
Read More
When the moment for a meal finally manifests, its metabolism ravenously ricochets, physically increasing the size of the python’s heart in just a short three-day period. Enzyme-gush protects the heart from injury, and this occurs just after the python has engorged. The body is a green area constantly being affected by reddening.
Read More
Divine clout is a marvel. I have been held in marvels throughout many lifetimes. I had no idea when born this time that I would be born by metal: an animate display of rust.
Read More
The tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right...
Read More
The thing about new blooms is that they tend to bleed— / Those petals birthed / hugging close / that come warmer weather are tricked into jumping away...
Read More
I spent a good part of my childhood at home staring outside my bedroom window, following the trail of planes approaching the nearby Paris airport in the sky from my banlieue. I envied the passengers...
Read More
