July 2010
Brief Song, Elton Glaser
poetry365:
When love carries us
to this altitude
of lean air, our heads
clear, our hearts
open like parachutes.
1 tag
“When it was finally over she told me she loved me for the first time. We had...”
– Quickies in New York: I Loved Her Too
“Here are the words
I’ve been running from,
I who have grown deliberately...”
– Poetry 365: Coda for Salvation, Maria Mazziotti Gillan (for 7/11)
1 tag
here is something
You’re married. Seriously? MARRIED? You are nineteen. And married. And I am single and reacting too strongly to books I should be disturbed by.
The last time I saw you…I almost don’t remember the last time I saw you because it was something I didn’t want to happen. The changes in you weren’t good ones, even objectively speaking. Maybe you’re better for it now....
In the Desert, Stephen Crane
poetry365:
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter - bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”
thebronzemedal:
There’s nothing like a power outage to help you focus on the book you’re reading. By a battery-powered flashlight.
this is why I miss Florida. Thunderstorms don’t shake houses in the city and I have yet to have a power outage. Just throw on a battery powered fan and it’s perfect. (Granted, sometimes I’ll intentionally take a local train when I don’t have...
“Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither...”
– Poetry 365: Postscript, Seamus Heaney
“For a moment everything will be all right. You’re back
at a beginning.”
– Poetry 365: Directions, Joseph Stroud (for 7/9)
“She kissed me…and she tasted like New York. She tasted like coffee and...”
– Quickies in New York: Tired of Seagulls
1 tag
2. from Some Walks with You, John Hollander
poetry365:
Lying in love and feigning worse (we love to know
That show of pain consumed it and non was left to feel)
For so long we had made up dozens of excuses
—Excuses for making up excuses they were—out
Of the stuff of love. Ah, but even saying it makes
The heart sink: what do we make things out of—need? desire
To have, to make? Or rather our of whole cloth? or yet
Of tattier fabric...
ATTN: ARTISTS
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