Interested in surreal poetry, the marvelous, and divergent thinking. We RT about literary #surrealism. Tweet us links to #surreal poems with #SurrealPoetics.
Exciting #CFP: "Surrealism and ecology": "We invite proposals for book chapters that relate to the question of surrealism and ecology and that consider any era and geography of surrealism".
Deadline for proposals: May 15, 2022
Link: https://t.co/PGcPWphAaB
Malaise and death were my sole/soul's campanion for too long. They still visit from time to time. I am a yellowing autumn leaf; life is hanging on to me loosely.
@rusdaboss Incapacitated, incapacitated and sick, better but in a living isolation, sick again! Still recovering. Malaise and death were my sole/soul's campanion. I am a yellowing autumn leaf; life is hanging on to me loosely.
If the colors of a butterfly's wings did not encase them like a bodice, their slightest fluttering in the air would crumble the butterfly to bits like a scattering of confetti. -Malcolm de Chazal, Sens-Plastique (trans. Irving Weiss, @Wakefield_Press) #surrealism#surrealpoetics
"Wilson’s latest is a wild, surreal trip down the rabbit hole. Anyone who enjoys stream-of-consciousness stories, as well as fans of artists Salvador Dalí and René Magritte, will enjoy this hallucinatory dreamscape.” —@LibraryJournal@RDSPress https://t.co/DposrLtLnc
ISSS members should have received via email an invitation to vote for the next Vice President of ISSS, who will become President after a one-year term. Members, we encourage you to vote as soon as you can! We have two amazing candidates!
Would someone please tweet us an image of a torso with a foot for a head? Or a foot with a head for a torso? The roses have wilted—wilted!—humanity is dead.
How great it must be to be a slug. To live a short, simple existence. To only concern yourself with the immediate present. A life in which the greatest threat comes in the tiniest crystal of salt. Death by a diamond--a sparkling death--what a luminous way to end! #MannaSlugs
Yesterday, as if by pure coincidence, I saw slugs fall from the heavens like manna. One must wonder what they envision for their terrestrial life. No matter, I saw a glimpse of beauty.
If only I could, once again, know the feeling--a feeling I mysteriously feel I once felt--of being a nightcrawler. Of dismantling the extremities that carry me aimlessly onward. Onward toward what destination? I am resigned to not knowing. #MannaSlugs#amwriting#surrealism