Pam Yve Simon
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pamyve.bsky.social
Pam Yve Simon
@pamyve.bsky.social
780 followers 780 following 370 posts
Poet. Photographer. Caregiver. (she/her)
https://linktr.ee/pamyve
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pamyve.bsky.social
Perish and Live Forever We can't afford the premiums to have our corpses shot into space; we can't scrape enough to freeze ourselves into a new age; we can't pay the subscription to upload our minds into a digital hell; we can't clear the check on nanites that perpetually repair our cells. So, we'll keep on dying the way we always have, and our bodies will rot the way they always have, and our bones will corrode the way they always have, and we'll nourish the Earth the way we always have.
September 24, 2025 at 4:20 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Photograph of blue sky with some white scattered clouds behind painted white wall that in black lettering reads “Poetry blushes but never runs away” artist handle @raaaskin
September 24, 2025 at 12:27 AM
pamyve.bsky.social
If you see this post a robot:
Image of Baymax, a bulbous white robot that appears soft to the touch. Text on the image reads “Hello I am Baymax”.
August 19, 2025 at 5:03 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Beautiful poem by @josephfasano.bsky.social
Love Poems to Our Friends Where are the poems for those who know us? Not for star-crossed loves, for agonies of desire, but words for those who go with us the whole road. How would they start, I wonder? You let me crash when I was new to ruin. You came to me though visiting hours were over. You held me when my loves were done, were flames. Yes, we will lose a few in the changes. But these are the ones who save us: not the charmers, not the comets of wild passion, not the ups-and-downs of love's unlucky hungers, but the ones who stand by our shoulder at the funeral, nd lead us back to the city of the living nd put our favorite record on the plave and go away, and come back, always come back, with bread and wine and one word, one word: stay. -Joseph Fasano
January 29, 2025 at 10:42 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Was in the city and the universe sent me a reminder of one of my favorite rap songs…🥰
Photo of FDNY fire engine with the number 9 prominently displayed on the back.
January 23, 2025 at 10:27 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
“No hand to hold
still here it was”
from Ada Limón’s “While Everything Else Was Falling Apart” in the December issue of Poetry magazine.
Ada Limón While Everything Else Was Falling Apart In the Union Square subway station nearly fifteen years ago now, the L train came clanking by where someone had fat-Sharpied a black heart on the yellow pillar you leaned on during a bleak day (brittle and no notes from anyone you crushed upon). Above ground, the spring sun was the saddest one (doing work, but also none). What were you wearing? Something hopeful to show the world you hoped? A tall man was learning from a vendor how to pronounce churro. High in the sticky clouds of time, he kept repeating churro while eating a churro. How to say this made you want to live? No hand to hold still here it was: someone giving someone comfort and someone memorizing hard how to ask for it again.
November 16, 2024 at 12:19 AM
pamyve.bsky.social
Great idea, Todd! Love this one by Gregory Orr.
To Be Alive To be alive: not just the carcass But the spark. That's crudely put, but... If we're not supposed to dance, Why all this music? GREGORY ORR
November 11, 2024 at 1:22 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Picture of pigeon in stars and stripes top hat and bow tie next to sticker that reads “I voted by mail in the city of New York.”
November 5, 2024 at 3:25 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
The sensory imagery in my drafted poem says the same.
Image from @ironchefbot.bsky.social
But I tried to add the taste, the feeling, of the festival
October 23, 2024 at 12:54 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
SMALL KINDNESSES I've been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say "bless you" when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. "Don't die," we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don't want to harm each other./ We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, / and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here, have my seat," "Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”-Danusha Laméris
October 4, 2024 at 3:55 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Me explaining each of my poems 😂
Still frame pic from Iron Chef cooking competition. Text reads “And so it’s all about everything in the universe.” The pic has red and yellow star shaped food on top of some nondescript sandy looking food with a small glossy chocolate looking fence behind it.
September 19, 2024 at 12:42 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Elder Certified!
Screenshot of bluesky celebration card, shows user number #475,546, Joined date of Aug 4 2023, and words "Elder Certified Bluesky First 10%"
September 17, 2024 at 5:11 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
This is the phone I post from
Metal payphone on street in transparent phone booth
November 25, 2023 at 4:01 AM
pamyve.bsky.social
Whether a cat, a bat, or somewhere in between, may you feel seen this Halloween. Love this book Itty-Bitty Kittycorn by Shannon Hale, illustrations by LeUyen Pham. It’s about friendship and feeling truly seen for who you are.
Photo of Pam smiling while wearing maroon shirt, unicorn horn headband, painted whiskers and painted nose on her face. She is holding up the book Itty-Bitty Kittycorn with front cover showing illustrated pink cat who is smiling and wearing a unicorn horn.
November 1, 2023 at 12:57 AM
pamyve.bsky.social
First Fall BY MAGGIE SMITH I'm your guide here. In the evening-dark morning streets, I point and name. Look, the sycamores, their mottled, paint-by-number bark. Look, the leaves rusting and crisping at the edges. I walk through Schiller Park with you on my chest. Stars smolder well into daylight. Look, the pond, the ducks, the dogs paddling after their prized sticks. Fall is when the only things you know because I've named them begin to end. Soon I'll have another season to offer you: frost soft on the window and a porthole sighed there, ice sleeving the bare gray branches. The first time you see something die, you won't know it might come back. I'm desperate for you to love the world because I brought you here.
October 14, 2023 at 12:59 AM
pamyve.bsky.social
Two books of poetry this week and got a collectible library card.
Photograph of poetry book covers “Postcolonial Love Poem” by Natalie Diaz and “And Yet” by Kate Baer with Brooklyn Public Library Card Jay-Z collectible on top of both books.
August 25, 2023 at 12:45 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
This is lovely, it reminds me of “A Kitchen Drawer” by Ted Kooser.
A Kitchen Drawer by Ted Kooser Drawers like this may hold other worlds, but they vanish the instant they're exposed to the light. No one gets more than a glimpse of what's there, maybe a melon-ball maker still holding a cold scoop of light from the other side.
August 19, 2023 at 4:47 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Great day for the library! I couldn’t resist the Jay-Z limited edition library card (or these incredible books!)
Covers of books next to each other “Postcolonial Love Poem” by Natalie Diaz and “And Yet” by Kate Baer with Brooklyn Public Library card collectible Jay Z edition.
August 19, 2023 at 3:52 PM
pamyve.bsky.social
Hi everyone! Happy to be here and can’t wait to meet old and new writing friends.
Thank you for the invite @esfletcher.bsky.social Sending out good energy and the bat signal to the writing community with Mary Oliver’s poem “Wild Geese.”
Wild Geese Mary Oliver, 1935 - 2019 You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting- over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
August 7, 2023 at 5:54 PM