.it seems we drive forever but can never get away from here

veronique meignaud

Sometimes, you say, I wear
an abstracted look that drives you
up the wall, as though it signified
distress or disaffection.
Don’t take it so to heart.
Maybe I enjoy not-being as much
as being who I am. Maybe
it’s time for me to practice
growing old. The way I look
at it, I’m passing through a phase:
gradually I’m changing to a word.
Whatever you choose to claim
of me is always yours;
nothing is truly mine
except my name. I only
borrowed this dust.

"Passing Through" by Stanley Kunitz

.asymmetric, a sad novel by an anonymous poet

when parrots fly from his open mouth
... he tries to speak, repeating worthless,

worthless? I'm trying to love you

but I don't know how, & then
I start to remember—we are locked together
& pushing, pushing.

bits of "Worthless" by Nick Flynn

.bittersweet symphony (it never gets old)

fuckyeahchristinahendricks





♔♔♔

.a new name for this road

Landscape

When we were children, you didn’t care for words, you only filled pages with vertical lines. Beyond the page, the bite marks at the tip of your pencil, bare knees, a scrawny cat sleeping at your feet. We lived in the city and I thought you drew lampposts, telephone lines, the long, rusty rods scattered in construction sites. Your voice insisting, no, no, these are trees.

Conchitina Cruz

.look at this tangle of thorns

my veins
that keep shifting beneath the surface of my skin,
writing love letters to you in cursive.

look:
they say with my heavy bones my body will never
get off the ground, but that doesn't mean i close
my eyes when the sky is so beautiful it hurts.

my hands might someday turn into wings.

bits of "trilobite" by estallidos

.aren't we just terrified?

Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

William Hughes Mearns

.you, lucky you

la imagerie