Welcome to the Soft Bones Archive

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Welcome to the Soft Bones Archive *

I Love the Way (More) Men Love

Because so much of patriarchal culture writes off any nurturing type of love as femininity or as lesser, it’s easy (and strongly encouraged) to hear “the way men love” as an oxymoron, or as a warning. But there’s also something so sweet about the love that startles through that expectation, that blooms regardless and despite it. The love that forgets to introduce itself.

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Personal Essays Vincent Pruis Personal Essays Vincent Pruis

I Love the Way Men Love

Whenever I see a small aircraft descend past my apartment, with drooping lights against a dark sky and darker ridgeline, I think of a poem by Ada Limón, called “Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds.” There’s a section that reminds me so much of my dad…

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Poems Vincent Pruis Poems Vincent Pruis

Eggs Benedict Benediction

A puddled reflection cleaves / the largest robin I’ve ever seen. Cleaves, / or doubles. Doubles, or deifies. A worship / of muddy knees. Hinging / in any direction.

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Personal Essays Vincent Pruis Personal Essays Vincent Pruis

Dock Water Eyes

According to the witch-prophet in the Goodwill, I have a kind gaze, one that renders what it touches beautiful. Like superhero laser eyes, but with art…I believe, in that way, that we all, on some level, are superheroes. Or witches, or prophets, or whatever. That is to say, I believe in magic. That there’s magic in the world. That we, as experiencers and as meaning makers, are magic.

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Poems Vincent Pruis Poems Vincent Pruis

Rainbow Connection

So nose to the ground, you piggy reporters / to snuff out stories like truffles, gobbling / the T from your “LGB” in Stonewall and Civil Rights / biographies. Mutiny your motley crew. Betray / Jill Hawkins, though she was like a son to you.

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Personal Essays Vincent Pruis Personal Essays Vincent Pruis

Injury::Intimacy

Injury is an invitation to intimacy. I think that’s why there’s always an injury episode in the dramas. While there’s obvious vulnerability on the part of the person who’s hurting, there’s also vulnerability in expressing care.

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Personal Essays Vincent Pruis Personal Essays Vincent Pruis

Through a Glass, Darkly

Though I'm skilled at recognizing where my reality sometimes departs from the shared perception, experiencing an unshared reality is lonely. Sometimes I wrote it off as sleep deprivation. Sometimes I thought I was going crazy,—the insidious, unhinged-student, Bell Jar crazy. And sometimes I considered the possibility that there are multiple realities, and I am caught on the cusp: living in one, sensing another.

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Poems Vincent Pruis Poems Vincent Pruis

Porous

When you do not like what your eyes see…scoop them out with a spoon.

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