Say what you will about how fine things are. I dont buy it. For a lot of reasons. You are not the kind of person who would do the things you have done. You are simply confused, with a slanted view of things that create a desire to run. THAT is understandable. THAT is natural,
There are metaphors more real than the people who walk in the street. There are images tucked away in books that live more vividly than many men and women. There are phrases from literary works that have a positively human personality. There are passages from my own writing that chill me with fright, so distinctly
“Oh, where did you discover so neat a tactic, Phyllis: denying to disdain the garb of affection? To live unobserved by your eyes, I now go where never pain of mine need flatter your disdain.” Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, (the 17th century Mexican nun who was one of the greatest poets and intellectuals
by Denis Johnson I want to say that forgiveness keeps on dividing, that hope gives issue to hope, and more, but of course I am saying what is said when in this dark hallway one encounters you, and paws and assaults you—love affairs, fast lies—and you say it back and we blunder deeper, as would
a sneak attack waits. so why worry about a shattered heart ? its likely the liver will kill me anyway, perhaps an explosion in my brain I’ll never see coming. I never see the worst things coming, but I’ve learned to keep my eyes on disabled vehicles on the shoulder. boom. _emotionalorphan_
a twisted book, from a twisted mind that can conceive it… me: telling the world how to love easily, more fearlessly with every chapter added… will not be written as memoir- more likely fiction. there will be no love poems. narrative style for no-one. with lots of pretty pictures. pictures of Jane running. _emotionalorphan_
tobeamodernman: See on Scoop.it – The Written Word and Then Some WANDA COLEMAN – you will be missed, farewell. “Like Wallace Stegner, I am in the ‘universal’ tradition of writers who concern themselves with The Truth—never mi Jack Varnell‘s insight: Farewell Poet Wanda Coleman – November 13, 1946-November 22, 2013 – #LosAngeles #Poetry http://ht.ly/r7HHv @yvonnedelavega
what is my purpose,
why I didn’t die
has made me who I am.
expressobongo: Beyond the daggers of sheets a rib-cage of serpent dwelling will fall. The breath of thighs will cross stitch faster than a factory of sewing machine gunners. Gristle will sweat from bones splitting envelopes into quakes of sucking. Hackneyed lips will rest along ridges of musk as lonely beliefs crumble. Copyright © James Cornish.
in Latin, nothing obstructs…