created, maintained, and curated by womyn, for all.
April's theme is
MOTHERS & SISTERS.
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RAINCOAT is a community of musicians, writers, visual artists, filmmakers, and more. We champion the work of womyn and the nurturing of safe, dynamic spaces that encourage its creation and distribution.
They hurled themselves at one another with a forceful abandon that you might reserve in your mind for a particular kind of cathartic moment. I’d only personally experienced it during sex and during hard exercise. You throw all the energy you have in your body into moving. If you can just sustain a little bit longer, you’ll transcend to something or another. At first, staring at their faces and bodies punch holes in the air, I thought it might be in an attempt to purge aggress
"I even love the way you never finish any drink," my girlfriend says "always leaving one or two untasted sips" clearly referring, I could tell, to my habits with relationships I do have a habit for unfinished stories and books and poems and drinks and plates of food and its more than a habit, its a hankering she says this because we are in love. And this complicated for me. Because I walk through the world seeing nothing but pulsing golden strings that could tie me to everyon
Nina Posner: You have a lot of vivid dreams, right? Elizabeth Posner: Correct. NP: What do you think that means? EP: Well, I think it means a few things. From a very practical sense, I think it means that I am not a very deep sleeper. From a kind of… I guess, ethereal sense, I think it means I’ve had some past lives. NP: Oh! Could you say more about that? EP: Well, sometimes in my dreams, someone in my life, and this could be from forty years ago, will show up in my dream, ei
Here is a thing: When my mother was in 11th grade, she was the only girl in her physics class. She was 16 years old. Of the 400 some students in her high school, which lasted from 10-12th grade, she was the only girl in her physics class. There were fourteen boys. Here is a thing: Her teacher, Mr. Rubinstein, deemed every Wednesday “Ladies Day.” On Ladies Day, only the girls in his class could answer questions. The boys would sit and watch for 50 minutes as the girls wer
i have been the pit to your peach and to your viper poison-filled enabler to your venomous polygamy i prayed only to you while you loved many gods (and there's a slim chance of blessings when you look at those odds). anarchy! you announced beating my thighs until i ached (was i truly the authority?) a leader armed and able, apathetic you declared me dead far before my time. arching in the wake of mutiny, aged and abandoned, i performed my ancient duty with grace and forgave y
Here’s to you, earworm, you nastily beautiful creature, you. Sometimes when I think of you, I’d rather eat a quiche made of human hair than listen to your excruciating melodies. Yet, there’s something about you, earworm, that I just can’t quit. Maybe it’s the unfathomable way that you tow the line between dream and nightmare, occupying that bizarre liminal space between genius and banality. Or perhaps it’s your ability to titillate me with your sublime catchiness while si
It’s a sunny day, but not so hot that it makes me want to stay inside and watch “Chopped” reruns all afternoon. I am surrounded by my peers—some I’m not too fond of, and some I’m even less fond of, but I don’t mind. We’re standing in the park behind our old middle school, where we would gather for gym class every month, so “the man” can judge our worth based on whether we can run a mile or not. The awful orange cones that signify running, and therefore, death, are laid out to