My Boyfriend Apocalypse
My Boyfriend Apocalypse
With a disco ball as a north star, My Boyfriend Apocalypse responds to the myriad, simultaneous apocalypses we are and are not surviving, from the everyday crises of being a body to the global emergencies of devastating climate change and unfettered white supremacy. These poems ask what it would be like to make out with the end of the world: Who slipped tongue first? Is the apocalypse a good kisser? Are you?
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The speculative tenderness at the heart of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry embraces life, not just survival, while the future is still ours to imagine. The opening poem of My Boyfriend Apocalypse begins, "Baby, dance," and all we have to do is let the gentle swaying hold us. These poems aren't trying to outlast the apocalypse because they already know it's "now and forever," but the urgent conjunction that bridges the two is just enough time to love unabashedly. The end of the world is the expanse where all of the poet's wonders coalesce. She asks: "Who cradles us?" and the question tends to longing without forcing an answer. The poet bears witness to histories of imperialism, grief, and violence with unwavering insistence on the intimacies our kinship makes possible. Every YouTube rabbit hole-portal, every photo of beloveds tucked into wallets, every kiss that we meet with eyes closed. In her sensual poetry, everything that keeps us soft keeps us listening, keeps us alive. José Esteban Muñoz wrote, "We may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality." Rarely have I felt more possible than in the wonder of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry, the worlds she makes a touch closer with her tenderness. - Sanjana Bijlani
For those of us still coming to terms with global health crises and general sense of everything being a total trash fire, antmen pimentel mendoza's My Boyfriend Apocalypse is the antidote to doom scrolling our way to numbness. Drawing on internet trends, pop music references, post-therapy assessments, and more, pimentel mendoza skillfully makes a case for seemingly mundane acts like ass eating as a political gesture in a book that insists "Spill, baby" and cheekily (tenderly) asks you "to fold/ your way /into more bravery, or at least, fewer fonts of shame." This book seems to recognize no bounds to radical love, sex, and survival in a time when we keep waking up to the chill world ending. In the face of incessant apocalypse, pimentel mendoza beckons us to l
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The speculative tenderness at the heart of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry embraces life, not just survival, while the future is still ours to imagine. The opening poem of My Boyfriend Apocalypse begins, "Baby, dance," and all we have to do is let the gentle swaying hold us. These poems aren't trying to outlast the apocalypse because they already know it's "now and forever," but the urgent conjunction that bridges the two is just enough time to love unabashedly. The end of the world is the expanse where all of the poet's wonders coalesce. She asks: "Who cradles us?" and the question tends to longing without forcing an answer. The poet bears witness to histories of imperialism, grief, and violence with unwavering insistence on the intimacies our kinship makes possible. Every YouTube rabbit hole-portal, every photo of beloveds tucked into wallets, every kiss that we meet with eyes closed. In her sensual poetry, everything that keeps us soft keeps us listening, keeps us alive. José Esteban Muñoz wrote, "We may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality." Rarely have I felt more possible than in the wonder of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry, the worlds she makes a touch closer with her tenderness. - Sanjana Bijlani
For those of us still coming to terms with global health crises and general sense of everything being a total trash fire, antmen pimentel mendoza's My Boyfriend Apocalypse is the antidote to doom scrolling our way to numbness. Drawing on internet trends, pop music references, post-therapy assessments, and more, pimentel mendoza skillfully makes a case for seemingly mundane acts like ass eating as a political gesture in a book that insists "Spill, baby" and cheekily (tenderly) asks you "to fold/ your way /into more bravery, or at least, fewer fonts of shame." This book seems to recognize no bounds to radical love, sex, and survival in a time when we keep waking up to the chill world ending. In the face of incessant apocalypse, pimentel mendoza beckons us to l
PRP: 99.20 Lei
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89.28Lei
89.28Lei
99.20 LeiPrimești 89 puncte
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Descrierea produsului
With a disco ball as a north star, My Boyfriend Apocalypse responds to the myriad, simultaneous apocalypses we are and are not surviving, from the everyday crises of being a body to the global emergencies of devastating climate change and unfettered white supremacy. These poems ask what it would be like to make out with the end of the world: Who slipped tongue first? Is the apocalypse a good kisser? Are you?
-------
The speculative tenderness at the heart of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry embraces life, not just survival, while the future is still ours to imagine. The opening poem of My Boyfriend Apocalypse begins, "Baby, dance," and all we have to do is let the gentle swaying hold us. These poems aren't trying to outlast the apocalypse because they already know it's "now and forever," but the urgent conjunction that bridges the two is just enough time to love unabashedly. The end of the world is the expanse where all of the poet's wonders coalesce. She asks: "Who cradles us?" and the question tends to longing without forcing an answer. The poet bears witness to histories of imperialism, grief, and violence with unwavering insistence on the intimacies our kinship makes possible. Every YouTube rabbit hole-portal, every photo of beloveds tucked into wallets, every kiss that we meet with eyes closed. In her sensual poetry, everything that keeps us soft keeps us listening, keeps us alive. José Esteban Muñoz wrote, "We may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality." Rarely have I felt more possible than in the wonder of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry, the worlds she makes a touch closer with her tenderness. - Sanjana Bijlani
For those of us still coming to terms with global health crises and general sense of everything being a total trash fire, antmen pimentel mendoza's My Boyfriend Apocalypse is the antidote to doom scrolling our way to numbness. Drawing on internet trends, pop music references, post-therapy assessments, and more, pimentel mendoza skillfully makes a case for seemingly mundane acts like ass eating as a political gesture in a book that insists "Spill, baby" and cheekily (tenderly) asks you "to fold/ your way /into more bravery, or at least, fewer fonts of shame." This book seems to recognize no bounds to radical love, sex, and survival in a time when we keep waking up to the chill world ending. In the face of incessant apocalypse, pimentel mendoza beckons us to l
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The speculative tenderness at the heart of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry embraces life, not just survival, while the future is still ours to imagine. The opening poem of My Boyfriend Apocalypse begins, "Baby, dance," and all we have to do is let the gentle swaying hold us. These poems aren't trying to outlast the apocalypse because they already know it's "now and forever," but the urgent conjunction that bridges the two is just enough time to love unabashedly. The end of the world is the expanse where all of the poet's wonders coalesce. She asks: "Who cradles us?" and the question tends to longing without forcing an answer. The poet bears witness to histories of imperialism, grief, and violence with unwavering insistence on the intimacies our kinship makes possible. Every YouTube rabbit hole-portal, every photo of beloveds tucked into wallets, every kiss that we meet with eyes closed. In her sensual poetry, everything that keeps us soft keeps us listening, keeps us alive. José Esteban Muñoz wrote, "We may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality." Rarely have I felt more possible than in the wonder of antmen pimentel mendoza's poetry, the worlds she makes a touch closer with her tenderness. - Sanjana Bijlani
For those of us still coming to terms with global health crises and general sense of everything being a total trash fire, antmen pimentel mendoza's My Boyfriend Apocalypse is the antidote to doom scrolling our way to numbness. Drawing on internet trends, pop music references, post-therapy assessments, and more, pimentel mendoza skillfully makes a case for seemingly mundane acts like ass eating as a political gesture in a book that insists "Spill, baby" and cheekily (tenderly) asks you "to fold/ your way /into more bravery, or at least, fewer fonts of shame." This book seems to recognize no bounds to radical love, sex, and survival in a time when we keep waking up to the chill world ending. In the face of incessant apocalypse, pimentel mendoza beckons us to l
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