Advertisement · 728 × 90

Posts by Britt Clair

Post image

For my 37 followers 😂: a writing retreat in BC, Canada for all artists this spring. 🐋♥️🌕🔮 It’ll be witchy and queer &&&. I hope to see you there. and-and.ca

1 year ago 4 0 0 0

each time I feel myself starting to panic about this godforsaken country, I try to take action. The action itself brings calm, proving to my body that hope is a verb, etc.

calling my reps takes minutes, for instance, & the 5 calls app makes it especially easy:

apps.apple.com/us/app/5-cal...

1 year ago 406 100 12 9
Post image

This is my favorite picture of Stonewall.

They knew they were getting arrested just for being LGBTQ+.

Yet... they're still here, standing outside of the boarded up Stonewall Inn, smiling as the world was at a fever pitch of hatred against them.

I think about it a lot in moments like this.

1 year ago 37513 6514 370 217
Post image Post image

Reading on the train always hits different; this book will forever be a favourite, a talisman ♥️🫗 🦌 🦝🌀

1 year ago 2 0 0 0

YAMI! ♥️ so good to see you anywhere (irl soon please)

1 year ago 1 0 0 0
poem against domination


thinking today of the endless character
of love, how the heart doesn’t open,
how the walk back along the endless red gate
opens the cold sky, the trees flapping
like torn sleeves, the distant forest
some enactment, some . . . —song, the story
of existence, hers an industrious lax
silence given from another place,
another time, the door partly existence
and partly a door to cross. The mountain
the plan of this one endless accident:
so endless is the word for the morning sun,
for the hill the accident departed from,
cold as a knife and just as sharp,
the morning grey and green in minor shadows.

poem against domination thinking today of the endless character of love, how the heart doesn’t open, how the walk back along the endless red gate opens the cold sky, the trees flapping like torn sleeves, the distant forest some enactment, some . . . —song, the story of existence, hers an industrious lax silence given from another place, another time, the door partly existence and partly a door to cross. The mountain the plan of this one endless accident: so endless is the word for the morning sun, for the hill the accident departed from, cold as a knife and just as sharp, the morning grey and green in minor shadows.

this spellbinding poem by Michael Burkard!!!!

1 year ago 34 8 2 0

Who’s all gay here

1 year ago 9 0 2 0