February 2012
16 posts
6 tags
My landscape is a hand with no lines, the roads bunched to a knot, the knot...
– Sylvia Plath (via herbstwetter)
5 tags
You turn towards meteor showers in August,
wishing yourself like that:
bright...
– Jane Hirshfield, “The Falling” (via Read a Little Poetry)
4 tags
Your body is the house you grew up in.
How dare you try to burn it to the...
– Sierra DeMulder (via sealfeathers)
2 tags
“I drew the word surrender in the mist of your breath, waving a white sheet around your body. ‘Dear, in the morning let me put on your make-up for you. I’ll be loading your gems with mascara then I’ll tell you the truth…’ I watched black ropes and tears ramble down your face. Lady war paint. A squad of tiny men rappels down those snaking lines and you say; “Thank you for releasing all those...
3 tags
3 tags
3 tags
pillowstars:
Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.
— H. Murakami
4 tags
3 tags
3 tags
I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.
– Franz Kafka (via kafkaesque-world)
2 tags
3 tags
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I...
– W.S. Merwin, Separation. (via askios)
5 tags
For Grace, After A Party
You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn’t
interest
me, it was love for you that set me
afire,
and isn’t it odd? for in rooms full of
strangers my most tender feelings
writhe and
bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,
isn’t...
5 tags
Mayakovsky
1
My heart’s aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
who am I? If he
will just come back once
and kiss me on the face
his coarse hair brush
my temple, it’s throbbing!
then I can put on my clothes
I guess, and walk the streets.
2
I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.
Words! be
sick as I am sick, swoon,
roll back your...
5 tags
You too have your gentle
moments, you too have eyelashes,
each of your eyes...
– Margaret Atwood (from her poem, “Small Tactics”)
Anonymous asked: Will anyone ever be truly okay?