I am going to stop saying titties for bravado.
I will stop strangling sculptures of babies.
It is very important that you make fun of the dried roses on my windowsill.
I need to feel like something is wrong with me again.
Slung over a woman is a girl in pink underpants.
Both their heads are wrapped in bandages.
I think my sister is innocent.
Erryone is.
Here is a poem in the new Drunken Boat about not going gentle into that dry-ass night (or not going at all).
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My fave sport is romanticizing ppl romanticizing each other.
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Feel like this is what all of the Mad Men recappers are missing when they try to ‘analyze’ last night’s episode:
and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air and i eat men like air
MEAT HEART is #4 ON SPD BESTSELLER LIST!
Also, Julia Jackson interviewed me at Electric Literature involving the transcendental, escapism and Young Guns II.
A box arrives from Amazon, full of boys in yellow shirts that say Jesus Saves At K-Mart. The boys are hoarders. They are hoarding themselves inside this box. You can plant the boys in mud and from their eyes a nun with a mole on her hand will grow. You can put the boys in plastic bags and throw them on a snowy highway to make cars honk out the tune of Just Wanna See His Face. Let’s not do that. Let’s visualize a Nike swoosh in a blue sky and call it abstinence. Let’s take no hostages and shop lonely. There is a ceiling to every chandelier, but at least the ceiling is pink. The blue sky is contained under this pink ceiling. Sadly, the ceiling is faceless. Wanna know how I know?
Fell out of a red MG on my way to San Francisco in 1969 and got 16 stitches and a 70s bush. Landed at a blurry discotheque with Leda Leda Leda and her fat swan. Grabbed at her titties while she shook her black hair. Suddenly there were no titties because her hair was blonde. Obvi I am a soft heart in a jar of gefilte fish. Do you ever get the feeling that Jesus had six eyes? Stevie Nicks reclines under a black statue of Jesus and plots to win him back. I am rooting for her!
My dick is a disaster area.
My dick is scared it has a Mrs. Robinson vibe.
My dick is talking about a dark web & where each strand meets is a black sapphire.
My dick is paranoid?
My dick is trying to “become whole.”
My dick features a recording of the ocean.
My dick lives by the ocean but it needs the recording to relax.
Paul Tunis (aka da man) and I collaborated on a comic at The Rumpus. But really I just wrote like 20 words and he spun them into a hot pink & black existential inferno that manages to incorporate a giganto guinea pig, hot punk twinks & the Manson fam into a window at Bergdorfs.
Next, some Dutch people got ahold of the comic and posted it on what looks to be a VERY hip and ‘relevant’ blog out of Amsterdam. Feel hip. Feel relevant. Feel #ontzagwekkend. Have fooled the Dutch.
Also at The Rumpus is a super-thoughtful review of MEAT HEART by Matthew Zingg.
Made a mixtape for Electric Literature called HOW TO AVOID A POETRY READING
Poem called EVERY MOOD I’M IN IS THE ONE I’LL BE IN FOREVER
Poem called WILL TRUST MY INNER GUIDE WHEN THE INTERNET IS EXTINCT
Poem called WANT SOMEONE TO YELL AT U FOR APPROPRIATING FEATHERS SO I CAN FEEL INDIE FOR NOT APPROPRIATING FEATHERS
Poem called CAME ON GOD’S DICK
Poem called YOUR ALAN WATTS INSTAGRAM MAKES ME WANT TO DIE NOTHING AGAINST ZEN I JUST DON’T KNOW HOW TO LAUGH WITHOUT WATCHING MYSELF LAUGHING
Poem called ROMEO AND JULIET WERE CODEPENDENT BUT WHATEVS
Poem called FLOATING DOWN A RIVER OF HATERADE IN A SWEET PINEAPPLE BOAT
Poem called EXPRESS BUS AWAY FROM WHITE PEOPLE MAKING WAKA FLAKA PUNS
Poem called MY SYMBOLIC EXPRESSION IS A TEMPLE OF THE DOG CD AND A FIBER MUFFIN
Poem called PLAYING FOOTSIE WITH THE COMPULSION TO TOTALIZE
Poem called I HAVE SUSTAINED MY BEAUTY FOR 32 YRS AND AM GOING ICE FISHING
Poem called VANITY REASSERTS ITSELF WHEN PAIN RECEDES
Poem called AVE MARIAS TO A CHUNK OF TOMATO STUCK INSIDE AN OYSTER SHELL
Poem called WHY ISN’T MY PROJECTION ON YOU REAL?
Poem called ONLY GOING TO EUROPE SO I CAN SAY IT
Poem called INTERNET ADDICTION IS AN ARCADE OF DIVINITY
Did the Other People podcast. Topics include: stalking, all-girls schools, self-piercing, shrooming, Pink Floyd laser light shows, darkness, excesses, adrenaline, panic, and the commodification of New Age spirituality. Honestly, this is worth listening to just for Brad Listi’s 10 minute monologue on Fassbender’s penis and its relationship to the human condition.
Jennifer L. Knox interviewed me, Sommer Browning, Amy Lawless, Sharon Mesmer and Rachel Shukert about being funny.
What materials were used to make the image?
Flesh, sneakers, hair, mouth, eyes.
What else?
Breath. Pizza. A father. A brother. Korean girls.
What did you do to the image?
I kissed it. I traced its hand for seven minutes in a dark room. I linked its arm in the rain. I kissed it again. I buried my face in its neck.
Did the image have any concerns?
Yes. It wanted to be more than an image.
Did you have any concerns?
Yes. That the image breathed on its own.
Is an image capable of feeling?
Yes. Only what I want it to feel.
Is an image capable of feeling?
Yes. Only what it feels.
Want to get hard like a dog no I want to melt.
God can be a he tonight.
Was told not to use god anymore, that it is a crutch, please forgive me if you agree.
Evidence shows you should go to the desert for serotonin reuptake exhibition.
LOOK WHAT PATRICK SOMERVILLE SAID ABOUT MEAT HEART IN FLAVORWIRE SMALL PRESS RECS YEAH!
“Meat Heart by Melissa Broder is unbelievable and overwhelming for its imaginative power alone, but if you listen past the weird you can hear all sorts of things: sadness, seriousness, life, death, and a whole lot of laughter. I love it. Broder is a tremendous talent and I’m glad that book exists.”
Want to grow a dick and write about dark forests.
Want to grow a nice dick and write about dark forests.
Want to grow a big dick and write about dark forests.
Tonight I am supposed to do a reading.
I have laryngitis.
I am going to cough up a shimmer.
I am going to cough up a need in the field of emotional curfew.
Who built this field?
Certain Christians cannot tolerate weakness.
I am so longing for my personal Jebus.
He is growing crystals on another field.
Only true masters can eat there.
Everyone is a true master.
Girls named Ana are forbidden not to have hot moles on their necks.
I’m still riding October 1998 and it’s fine.
I want to do to words what Pink Floyd did to me.
Remember when all the Anas in the world had bad trips under a flight of stairs?
I might still get a pair of Ray-Bans 1000 years late.
I will be an Ana yet.
I hope this is the last blog post I ever make.
How are you?
"Out to 'crucify boredom,' her poems show us how any relationship with the divine is no less at risk of engendering grotesque lust...What makes Broder such a pleasure on the page is her insistence that these dramas play out on a workaday stage infused with surreal Pop and imaginative muscle..."
–Publishers Weekly
"The whole book pumps, and I swear some of what’s coming in and out are flashes of light that you can read it by."
–Mark Bibbins
"…a book of poems that is at once apocalyptic, full of sorrow, and packed with images crystalline in their beauty and truth… This book is full of magic."
–Dorothea Lasky
"To read Meat Heart is to consume, perish, murder, glitter, and prophesize. To say that Broder is fearless is not saying enough."
–Natalie Lyalin
Buy from SPD
Personalized by me
Or Amazon
“This debut from Broder is as funny and hip as it is disturbing… a bright and unusual debut.”
–Publishers Weekly
"…obsessive, energetic and pop-culture-infused poetry…"
–Time Out New York
"Broder’s insight and honesty will make your brain light up and your hair stand on end.”
–The San Francisco Examiner
"Broder’s verse is acrobatic and whip-smart… its own creature."
–Bomb