# data[].attributes.headline
The first Greek god was actually a goddess. She is Gaia, or Mother Earth, who created herself out of primordial chaos.

# data[].attributes.subject
The first Greek god was actually a goddess. She is Gaia, or Mother Earth, who created herself out of primordial chaos.

# data[].attributes.body
Shay Alexi Stewart

I've lived 20 prettybird years
Of this great big prettybird life
And i think i pretty pretty pretty bird bird pretty much know what im talking about
People like to poke fun at my pretty bird pretty preening
At my pretty pretty bird pretty feathers
But look at my long clean coat
At my pretty pretty bird pretty pink legs
When pigeon men track me cross sky highway
tHey are happy to trace hungry orange eyes
between my pretty pretty bird bird feathers
To busy fantasizing pretty bird
Wet dreams swollen chest fluff fest
To pretty poke bird fun
To pretty poke fun bird
To pretty bird bird pretty bird bird pretty pretty pretty
Too busy fantasizing
to poke fun at permanently preening pretty bird
My vanity is insanity unless it helps get you off
What a treat hosting eyes between my thighs
They will spend equal time begging to share bed with me
Condemning mediocrity
How does one achieve complexity when all she was ever taught to be was basic
Pigeon man wants pretty bird to pretty bird
Until pretty bird fulfills ideas of prettiness
Then shes too pretty pretty bird bird paralyzing and preened

Look at my long clean coat
At my pretty pretty bid pretty pink legs
Track me cross sky highway
Take a picture I beg you
Take a picture pretty bird pretty bird
My left side is my best side
I have a best side
I have a better half
I am a half

Pretty cus they want a pretty bird bird
I grew up on a diet of bread crumbs catalog clippings and sidewalk cracks
How do you expect anything else
Pretty sure i know what im talking about

Pretty sure
pretty sure
Maybe not
Sorry sorry sorry sorry
Can i ask a question
Sorry sorrry
May i may i

Pretty bird used to sing
Baby bird used to sing
Baby bird was pretty bird before pretty bird learned to pretty
And baby bird could compose whole symphonies
Acute intricacies melodies capturing vacies poetry
But the reviews came in
and they prefered apology
So she shrank
learned to make herself small enough
to nearly fit back in her eggshell
to tip toe atop eggshells

expanded flight just long enough
for pigeon men to track her cross sky highway
but still she sang too loud
so they caged her up
for her pretty pretty bird bird long clean coat
for her pretty pretty bird pretty pink legs
and they said sing pretty lady sing
but I forgot how

so I said
pretty pretty bird bird look at my long clean coat
at my pretty pretty bird pretty pink legs
but they were bored of me

# data[].attributes.body
Kate Bass

When I know you are coming home

I put on this necklace:

glass beads on a silken thread,

a blue that used to match my eyes.

I like to think I am remembering you.

I like to think you don’t forget.

The necklace lies heavy on my skin,

it clatters when I reach down

to lift my screaming child.

I swing her, roll her in my arms until she forgets.

The beads glitter in the flicker of a TV set

as I sit her on my lap

and wish away the afternoon.

I wait until I hear a gate latch lift

the turn of key in lock.

I sit amongst toys and unwashed clothes,

I sit and she fingers the beads until you speak

in a voice that no longer seems familiar, only strange.

I turn as our child tugs at the string.

I hear a snap and a sound like falling rain.