December 2009
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“Someone I love has died. I am certain, but I cannot tell who. A bird that sounds...”
– from “If It Ever Happens that the Fire Goes Out” by Lisa Olstein (via sleepanddream)
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jshdivision:
I Can’t Stop Partying - Weezer...
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“These are not the ones I bungled with early hands. There I harm in ways I don’t...”
– from “So Much for This City” by Lisa Olstein (via sleepanddream)
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“Where you counsel me on lips and throat. Where you love the hiss of my atom....”
– from “Love Poem with Peanut Shells” by Victoria Chang (via sleepanddream)
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Weaned on Brautigan
barelyknittogether:
Perhaps, on second thought, it wasn’t so good to give me the Brautigan book instead of a kiss, or goodbye, or a second glance twenty-five years ago.
I write poetry that is too pedestrian, too concrete, too real.
Like clocks strapped to bodies, second-hand trout- fishing streams,
I give out all the answers, leaving nothing to do but sleep.
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“These are morning matters, pictures you dream as the final wave heaves you up on...”
– Annie Dillard Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (via barelyknittogether)
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“It was hot, so hot the mirror felt warm. I washed before the mirror in a daze,...”
– Annie Dillard Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (via barelyknittogether)
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You go home smelling like my perfume. I forget the colour of your eyes because they change depending on our position, or the look in mine.
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Lies I've Told to My Three Year Old Recently, Raul...
Trees talk to each other at night. All fish are named either Lorna or Jack. Before your eyeballs fall out from watching too much TV, they get very loose. Tiny bears live in drain pipes. If you are very very quiet you can hear the clouds rub against the sky. The moon and the sun had a fight a long time ago. Everyone knows at least one secret language. When nobody is looking, I can fly. We are all...
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“…each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game....”
– from The Road, Cormac McCarthy (via poetbabble)
Dreaming of Summer
“The true Southern watermelon is a boon apart, and not to be mentioned with commoner things. It is chief of this world’s luxuries, king by the grace of God over all the fruits of the earth. When one has tasted it, he knows what the angels eat. It was not a Southern watermelon that Eve took; we know it because she repented.”
- Mark Twain
(via barelyknittogether)
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Whiter teeth in fourteen days
, Kathleen McLeod
Don’t let me collect these stars for you, sweetness and light fades and I will be left with decorations to remind me forever and even if I stay up counting stars there won’t be enough for extra strength or sweet relief like chewing gum for this addiction
-http://kathleenjoy.tumblr.com
(via poetry365)
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“And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain...”
– Life After God, Douglas Coupland (via lyriquediscorde) (via northerndownpour) (via buyhercandy) (via cankerbloxxom) (via monkeytypist)
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Boo, Forever by Richard Brautigan
Spinning like a ghost on the bottom of a top, I’m haunted by all the space that I will live without you. - from The Pill versus the Springhill Mine Disaster (via barelyknittogether)
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autumn twilight- in the closed barbershop the mirrors darken - Cor van den Heuvel
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a crow in the snowy pine inching up a branch, letting the evening sun through - Nick Virgilio
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“All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds.”
– Richard Brautigan
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old ghosts who still haven't died
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I sink a little bridge to the aquarium floor- first day of summer - Emiko Miyashita
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I love you while this song is still playing.
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“Perhaps you stared into a river. There was somebody near you who loved you. They...”
– from In Watermelon Sugar by Richard Brautigan (via smut-to-go)
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“I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a note on it saying,...”
– Bernard Manning
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Organ donors: hurry up and die and shorten the...
In my head it’s a car crash before I’ve even turned on the ignition. I wake up with a smile on my face thinking of you.
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“Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett, in all her selfishness and intrepidity, is one of...”
– Yes, we do give a damn | The Australian
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"Airports and Trees," Leonard Gontarek
He adds cream to the coffee in the dream, which ordinarily he doesn’t do. She thought when he removed his tongue from her, it was over, but only the quiet was over. After a week loving my woman, I am a terrorist. I would buy you a dress I would rip from you, if that is what you want.
(via poetbabble) (via linzo)
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“And I can’t tell if all of these bold statements
are making me sick or...”
– from the poem Forty-Three by Cassandra at Miniature Bridges
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The Copenhagen Situation
via I Wrote This For You
When they eventually discover this lonely blue dot, they will know that you and I, we did not destroy ourselves, because we will still be here. And we will compare notes on what it means to exist. Or they will know that we failed. Because we won’t be here, anymore.
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Summer #6
I want to find your mouth there, with the lightning like sugar on your tongue. The sheets have patterned my face while I slept. You kiss away lines, that I won’t have until I’m older. You won’t know me then. Your fingers are like raindrops on my skin and your heart under my ear beats like hail on a tin roof.
To thunderous applause, we leap off the bed naked to throw open the...
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Sixty-five. On the subject of illumination.
Sunday, July 26, 2009 by Cassandra at Miniature Bridges
It is often difficult to see moments reconstructed and replayed in another person’s words. Your voice translated into text, clean and precise, without any sort of stumbling or mispronunciation, which means that whatever has been written is already a half-lie, which probably creates a perfectly sensible balance, as every line that...
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Sixty-nine.
Sunday, August 23, 2009 by Cassandra at Miniature Bridges
And I said, “You shouldn’t write fiction. I don’t feel anything.” It isn’t always about lovers, it isn’t always speaking to someone inside the room. So, how well do you think you know me? I say this to wallpaper. Dusty blue damask. He gives you a book of poems that he has written within the last six...
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The only songs I like about love are about...
I wish for 2010 to be the year that I hear a love song or read a poem where the theme is two people in love and happy so for the first time, I think
I know, I know what it’s like, I relate. I’m happy because I know what it’s like to love and be loved back.
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“Then they stippled everyone
with shadow and everything went to pieces....”
– from “The Professor’s Lover” by Victoria Chang (via sleepanddream)
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