April 2012
I Come Home Wanting To Touch Everyone
The dogs greet me, I descend into their world of fur and tongues and then my wife and I embrace as if we’d just closed the door in a motel, our two girls slip in between us and we’re all saying each other’s names and the dogs Buster and Sundown are on their hind legs, people-style, seeking more love. I’ve come home wanting to touch everyone, everything; usually I turn the key and...
“It’s not that I wait for you, it’s that my arms are doors I cannot close.”
– Derrick Brown (via whale-bone)
“You say you’re not special because the world doesn’t know about you, but that’s...”
– John Green (via pseudointelligence)
My Unopened Life
apoetreflects:
So are we each lit briefly by engulfments of space like the worm in the beak of the bird, yielding to sudden corridors of light-into-light, never asking: why, tell me why all this light?
—Tess Gallagher, from “My Unopened Life” in Dear Ghosts, (Graywolf Press, 2006)
“It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute...”
– E.M. Forster, A Room with a View (via obdormio)
Feathers
propagandaministry:
I want to find new words for pigeons. Crows. Backyard roosters. Sleep in for mortals who plod through healthy breakfast. Fiber my good fellow for regular movements. My feet, which you think are walking, are only brushing the earth to remind me what it is not to levitate. I want these feathers between my toes & fingers, peeking out like the guiltless bloody muzzle of a...
“Begin with that most terrifying of all things, a clean slate. Then look, every...”
– Anna Quindlen, 1999 Mount Holyoke Commencement Speech (via le-toit)
via nprfreshair
KIM ADDONIZIO
poetrysince1912:
Sundays, too, the soldiers get up early, and put on their fatigues in the blue- black day. Black milk. Black gold. Texas tea. Into the valley of Halliburton rides the infantry— Why does one month have to be the cruelest, can’t they all be equally cruel? —Poetry, January 2009
Tongues Made of Glass
celebratepoetry:
Poem submission by Shaun Shane
if only our tongues were made of glass how much more careful we would be when we speak
