dustofsleep: I carry your heart I carry it in my heart
Anonymous asked: hi where u going and how long will u be gone? i like your blog. will u update it when you are gone?
fumbling and choking on words i’m not used to being so frantic afraid of messing up the test questions
my days are numbered here. it’s difficult when you constantly feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome: you feel like a guest in your home; a stranger in your town; a refugee in your country. in six days i’ll be further from this place than I have ever been before. filled with both excitement and trepidation. I wonder if I’ll want to come back. she said when she...
The head hung in the tree. The body lay by the tracks. The head called to the body. The body to the head. They missed each other. The missing grew large between them, Until it pulled the heart right out of the body, until The drawn heart flew toward the head, flew as a bird flies Back to its cage and the familiar perch from which it trills. (-Brigit Pegeen Kelly, [excerpt from] Song) ...
You want to know how to paint a perfect picture? It’s easy. Make yourself perfect and then just paint naturally. -Robert M. Pirsig
Don’t push too hard. Just shove me gently.
Oblivion (Somewhere With You)
I want to go somewhere with you. But not to any of the places others long to go. Not to countries of ice, nor cities where buildings rake the undersides of passing clouds. Not to a land where the language and folktales could sing us into states of sanguine intoxication, nor to a place so silent the pounding of your heartbeat in the night could fill the sky like lightning....
I surrender who I’ve been for who you are
taping short straws on top of one another …gonna make mine 33 feet long
Never love someone who treats you like you’re ordinary.– Oscar Wilde (via hypotheses)
and you get choked up, like you’re struggling to breathe, like your trachea has suddenly become a one way avenue with a construction detour— the stale air in your lungs can only escape now; can only force its way through your chest in labored bursts— and when your fists find their way to your skull you think, “if only I could shake the thought away” but the harder you try the...
who broke the rules who broke the rules who broke the rules
I want to kick, run, swim, hike, jog, fly, jump, crawl, walk, fall, get back up, fall again, keep falling, climb, breathe, sit, lay, move, stretch, reach, come up short, lift, support, hold, be, with you.
Anonymous asked: You are a very attractive man.
The Spiders and the Secrets
we headed home— hair stiff from the sea, skin scorched from the sun, like the charred remains of that heap of metal and rubber we saw on the side of the parkway— I realized we were driving headlong into all of the spiders and the secrets that we had left up north what felt best, aside from your warm fingers drumming on the back of...
i leave for europe in a month from today my life has changed so completely in just about the same time frame other changes will take longer but they are changes i need, changes i never thought i wouldn’t be able to breathe without changes i never imagined, or perhaps, forced myself not to—for whatever reason i smile in the mirror now my heart beat races daily it feels like...
dustofsleep: i have found what you are like the rain, (Who feathers frightened fields with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields easily the pale club of the wind and swirled justly souls of flower strike the air in utterable coolness deeds of green thrilling light with thinned newfragile yellows lurch and.press -in the woods which stutter and sing And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds...
rooms to dream
“The world has no existence whatsoever outside the human imagination. It’s all a ghost, and in antiquity was so recognized as a ghost, the whole blessed world we live in. It’s run by ghosts…Your common sense is nothing more than the voices of thousands and thousands of these ghosts from the past. Ghosts and more ghosts. Ghosts trying to find their place among the...
Anonymous asked: I was reading your poems. Dirty Fingernails reminds me of the my next door neighbor! Is that poem about your neighbor too?
Anonymous asked: I like your poen "this is just to say" you are a good writer
Anonymous asked: what kind of music do you like?
This Is Just To Say I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold
Lady Love She is standing on my lids And her hair is in my hair She has the colour of my eye She has the body of my hand In my shade she is engulfed As a stone against the sky She will never close her eyes And she does not let me sleep And her dreams in the bright day Make the suns evaporate And me laugh cry and laugh Speak when I have nothing to say -Samuel Beckett