tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170223582024-03-07T00:52:19.871-06:00Balcón al SotanoÆhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.comBlogger753125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-5999000902871975452021-04-05T15:09:00.004-05:002021-04-05T15:09:46.681-05:00Bonedog<div>Coming home is terrible</div><div>whether the dogs lick your face or not;</div><div>whether you have a wife</div><div>or just a wife-shaped loneliness waiting for you.</div><div>Coming home is terribly lonely,</div><div>so that you think</div><div>of the oppressive barometric pressure</div><div>back where you have just come from</div><div>with fondness,</div><div>because everything’s worse</div><div>once you’re home.</div><div>You think of the vermin</div><div>clinging to the grass stalks,</div><div>long hours on the road,</div><div>roadside assistance and ice creams,</div><div>and the peculiar shapes of</div><div>certain clouds and silences</div><div>with longing because you did not want to return.</div><div>Coming home is</div><div>just awful.</div><div>And the home-style silences and clouds</div><div>contribute to nothing</div><div>but the general malaise.</div><div>Clouds, such as they are,</div><div>are in fact suspect,</div><div>and made from a different material</div><div>than those you left behind.</div><div>You yourself were cut</div><div>from a different cloudy cloth,</div><div>returned,</div><div>remaindered,</div><div>ill-met by moonlight,</div><div>unhappy to be back,</div><div>slack in all the wrong spots,</div><div>seamy suit of clothes</div><div>dishrag-ratty, worn.</div><div>You return home</div><div>moon-landed, foreign;</div><div>the Earth’s gravitational pull</div><div>an effort now redoubled,</div><div>dragging your shoelaces loose</div><div>and your shoulders</div><div>etching deeper the stanza</div><div>of worry on your forehead.</div><div>You return home deepened,</div><div>a parched well linked to tomorrow</div><div>by a frail strand of…</div><div>Anyway…</div><div>You sigh into the onslaught of identical days.</div><div>One might as well, at a time…</div><div>Well…</div><div>Anyway…</div><div>You’re back.</div><div>The sun goes up and down</div><div>like a tired whore,</div><div>the weather immobile</div><div>like a broken limb</div><div>while you just keep getting older.</div><div>Nothing moves but</div><div>the shifting tides of salt in your body.</div><div>Your vision blears.</div><div>You carry your weather with you,</div><div>the big blue whale,</div><div>a skeletal darkness.</div><div>You come back</div><div>with X-ray vision.</div><div>Your eyes have become a hunger.</div><div>You come home with your mutant gifts</div><div>to a house of bone.</div><div>Everything you see now,</div><div>all of it: bone.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5V_s1fVYLszeXyfjVV66CMHmNgcSiM5FQgUIvwwoLMVvfP5m11uAu6xj6I-FZb3ozCqKlW8kix5CgUreG5AYewoBO_nj7iqt5oZrN6HqDoZxdkbM2k3Fru_I69HfAWwDiT2nLrg/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="857" data-original-width="1280" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5V_s1fVYLszeXyfjVV66CMHmNgcSiM5FQgUIvwwoLMVvfP5m11uAu6xj6I-FZb3ozCqKlW8kix5CgUreG5AYewoBO_nj7iqt5oZrN6HqDoZxdkbM2k3Fru_I69HfAWwDiT2nLrg/w640-h429/image.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eva H.D.</div><br /><br /></div>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-37865256359026439562021-03-14T10:24:00.002-06:002021-03-14T10:25:07.058-06:00CLOSE<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>is what we almost always are: close to happiness, close to another, close to leaving, close to tears, close to God, close to losing faith, close to being done, close to saying something, or close to success, and even, with the greatest sense of satisfaction, close to giving the whole thing up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our human essence lies not in arrival, but in being almost there, we are creatures who are on the way, our journey a series of impending anticipated arrivals. We live by unconsciously measuring the inverse distances of our proximity: an intimacy calibrated by the vulnerability we feel in giving up our sense of separation.</div><div><br /></div><div>To go beyond our normal identities and become closer than close is to lose our sense of self in temporary joy, a form of arrival that only opens us to deeper forms of intimacy that blur our fixed, controlling, surface identity.</div><div><br /></div><div>To consciously become close is a courageous form of unilateral disarmament, a chancing of our arm and our love, a willingness to hazard our affections and an unconscious declaration that we might be equal to the inevitable loss that the vulnerability of being close will bring.</div><div><br /></div><div>Human beings do not find their essence through fulfillment or eventual arrival but by staying close to the way they like to travel, to the way they hold the conversation between the ground on which they stand and the horizon to which they go. What makes the rainbow beautiful, is not the pot of gold at its end, but the arc of its journey between here and there, between now and then, between where we are now and where we want to go, illustrated above our unconscious heads in primary colour.</div><div><br /></div><div>We are in effect, always, close; always close to the ultimate secret: that we are more real in our simple wish to find a way than any destination we could reach: the step between not understanding that and understanding that, is as close as we get to happiness. David Whyte.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-87166427641110495262020-09-22T08:47:00.000-05:002020-09-22T08:47:07.356-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpOoja7R6epCDr4qKjdpUD5IIPYnEbWRLS_fxbszWxBz2wPcZPvnIURmruxkdkl8q_h55wgAogzZvx91Y70JO7DDKaAt7mhKLEk1nt9wWV1keiS6wBBk9snTjIHwpqmySbniIbA/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="680" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpOoja7R6epCDr4qKjdpUD5IIPYnEbWRLS_fxbszWxBz2wPcZPvnIURmruxkdkl8q_h55wgAogzZvx91Y70JO7DDKaAt7mhKLEk1nt9wWV1keiS6wBBk9snTjIHwpqmySbniIbA/w640-h640/image.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-83685478830266231902020-09-11T15:59:00.003-05:002020-09-11T15:59:20.504-05:00kumina<div>on the sixth day</div><div>after yr death. there is this silence of flowers</div><div>their petals say their shining needs</div><div>soft water needs</div><div><br /></div><div>sweet showers needs</div><div>sweet rain from heaven</div><div><br /></div><div>.</div><div><br /></div><div>i see them once again inside the chapel of my funeral</div>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-63479312690568362122020-08-07T14:10:00.000-05:002020-08-07T14:10:45.751-05:00mary oliver<img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/72a41aeaecc3761ac31f5b5be48e6606/tumblr_pxscl3ifPb1utmvx5o2_540.png" />Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-91536436570923142352019-11-06T13:39:00.001-06:002019-11-06T13:39:13.229-06:00twice<img alt="image" src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/c1301723a2af6a2c47221b0e8c50aa0b/f7a9f1eac6591f18-d8/s2048x3072/6832da1047add7c27c128889e6c3b6776d7324c6.jpg" />Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-73962951442689201772019-10-11T09:45:00.001-05:002019-10-11T09:45:24.609-05:00This Wound Is a World<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 15px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
i kiss a stranger and give him a middle name.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />i call this love.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />it lasts for exactly twenty minutes.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />i chase after that feeling.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />which is to say:<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />i want to almost not exist.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />almost is the closest i can get to the sky.</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-top: 15px; min-height: 1px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
— <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Billy-Ray Belcourt,</span> from “Gay Incantations,” <i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2ZJy0bF&t=NDg5YzFhOTZmNDZjZWQ0OWIwZTA2MWFiOGJjM2U0NjIzYzUzNTMxYSx0ZXdnR2ZaZg%3D%3D&b=t%3A2rD_97LlOE6G-UXztT9NPQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsleepwalking.nu%2Fpost%2F187651790699%2Fi-kiss-a-stranger-and-give-him-a-middle-name-i&m=0" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-image: linear-gradient(rgba(68, 68, 68, 0) 50%, rgba(68, 68, 68, 0.25) 0px); background-position: 0px 1.15em; background-repeat: repeat-x; background-size: 1em 2px; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0.15em; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This Wound Is a World</a></i></div>
Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-17439468058024345452019-08-02T15:51:00.001-05:002019-08-02T15:51:38.217-05:00<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/660280352&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-37571377766536947882019-07-29T12:55:00.001-05:002019-07-29T12:55:53.413-05:00<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/658134404&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-16201209182159736082019-07-24T16:52:00.000-05:002019-07-24T16:52:35.487-05:00like a broken bone<img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/adc16ff0f5be65738028cf6fa4b270a5/tumblr_o7jnjwlNhk1u7h3p3o1_540.jpg" />Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-11543648231912531392019-07-19T15:17:00.001-05:002019-07-19T15:17:49.260-05:00<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/653587370&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-64476996764861568692019-07-09T20:57:00.001-05:002019-07-09T20:57:12.671-05:00<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/648896486&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-23353577169030763092019-05-16T13:09:00.001-05:002019-05-16T13:09:48.510-05:00<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/621045570&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-16051540786323268972019-05-01T09:41:00.000-05:002019-05-01T09:41:02.358-05:00Infatuations <br />
Infatuations aren’t delusions. That way they have of holding their head may truly indicate someone confident, wry, and sensitive; they really may have the humor and intelligence implied by their eyes and the tenderness suggested by their mouth. The error of the infatuation is more subtle: a failure to keep in mind the central truth of human nature: that everyone — not merely our current partners, in whose multiple failings we are such experts — but everyone will have something substantially and maddeningly wrong with them when we spend more time around them, something so wrong as to make a mockery of those initially rapturous feelings.<br />
<br />
The only people who can still strike us as normal are those we don’t yet know very well. The best cure for love is to get to know them better.Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-30951273511355178132018-07-26T09:20:00.002-05:002018-07-26T09:20:40.709-05:00Kahlil GibranWhen love beckons to you, follow him,<br />
Though his ways are hard and steep.<br />
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,<br />
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.<br />
And when he speaks to you believe in him,<br />
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.<br />
<br />
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.<br />
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.<br />
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,<br />
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.<br />
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.<br />
He threshes you to make you naked.<br />
He sifts you to free you from your husks.<br />
He grinds you to whiteness.<br />
He kneads you until you are pliant;<br />
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.<br />
<br />
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.<br />
<br />
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,<br />
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,<br />
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.<br />
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.<br />
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;<br />
For love is sufficient unto love.Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-85154640625826499542018-01-18T19:01:00.001-06:002018-01-18T19:01:52.406-06:00El Papa Joven<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/385755332&color=%23745e47&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-67738332687729252492018-01-08T14:26:00.002-06:002018-01-08T14:26:14.111-06:00THE WHISTLERAll of a sudden she began to whistle. By all of a sudden<br />
I mean that for more than thirty years she had not<br />
whistled. It was thrilling. At first I wondered, who was<br />
in the house, what stranger? I was upstairs reading, and<br />
she was downstairs. As from the throat of a wild and<br />
cheerful bird, not caught but visiting, the sounds war-<br />
bled and slid and doubled back and larked and soared.<br />
<br />
Finally I said, Is that you? Is that you whistling? Yes, she<br />
said. I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can<br />
still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled<br />
through the house, whistling.<br />
<br />
I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an-<br />
kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too.<br />
And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin<br />
to know each other? Who is this I’ve been living with<br />
for thirty years?<br />
<br />
This clear, dark, lovely whistler?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mary OliverÆhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-16014987448684001002017-12-29T10:25:00.001-06:002017-12-29T10:25:14.358-06:00<iframe frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/375921875&color=%23745e47&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-16497859672728523272017-12-11T12:38:00.002-06:002017-12-11T12:38:57.682-06:00They thought they were free...Each act, each occasion, is worse than the last, but only a little worse. You wait for the next and the next. You wait for one great shocking occasion, thinking that others, when such a shock comes, will join with you in resisting somehow. You don't want to act, or even talk, alone; you don't want to 'go out of your way to make trouble.' Why not?-Well, you are not in the habit of doing it. And it is not just fear, fear of standing alone, that restrains you; it is also genuine uncertainty. Uncertainty is a very important factor, and, instead of decreasing as time goes on, it grows. Outside, in the streets, in the general community, 'everyone' is happy. One hears no protest, and certainly sees none. You know, in France or Italy there would be slogans against the government painted on walls and fences; in Germany, outside the great cities, perhaps, there is not even this. In the university community, in your own community, you speak privately to your colleagues, some of whom certainly feel as you do; but what do they say? They say, 'It's not so bad' or 'You're seeing things' or 'You're an alarmist.'<br />
And you are an alarmist. You are saying that this must lead to this, and you can't prove it. These are the beginnings, yes; but how do you know for sure when you don't know the end, and how do you know, or even surmise, the end? On the one hand, your enemies, the law, the regime, the Party, intimidate you. On the other, your colleagues pooh-pooh you as pessimistic or even neurotic. You are left with your close friends, who are, naturally, people who have always thought as you have....<br />
But the one great shocking occasion, when tens or hundreds or thousands will join with you, never comes. That's the difficulty. If the last and worst act of the whole regime had come immediately after the first and smallest, thousands, yes, millions would have been sufficiently shocked-if, let us say, the gassing of the Jews in '43 had come immediately after the 'German Firm' stickers on the windows of non-Jewish shops in '33. But of course this isn't the way it happens. In between come all the hundreds of little steps, some of them imperceptible, each of them preparing you not to be shocked by the next. Step C is not so much worse than Step B, and, if you did not make a stand at Step B, why should you at Step C? And so on to Step D.<br />
And one day, too late, your principles, if you were ever sensible of them, all rush in upon you. The burden of self-deception has grown too heavy, and some minor incident, in my case my little boy, hardly more than a baby, saying 'Jewish swine,' collapses it all at once, and you see that everything, everything, has changed and changed completely under your nose. The world you live in-your nation, your people-is not the world you were born in at all. The forms are all there, all untouched, all reassuring, the houses, the shops, the jobs, the mealtimes, the visits, the concerts, the cinema, the holidays. But the spirit, which you never noticed because you made the lifelong mistake of identifying it with the forms, is changed. Now you live in a world of hate and fear, and the people who hate and fear do not even know it themselves; when everyone is transformed, no one is transformed. Now you live in a system which rules without responsibility even to God. The system itself could not have intended this in the beginning, but in order to sustain itself it was compelled to go all the way.<br />
<br />
<br />
Milton MeyersÆhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-65229970038608482902017-12-07T13:06:00.001-06:002017-12-07T13:06:24.615-06:00<img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/cdadb4fc7d3c90bb96b040758b53eb96/tumblr_p0lkvuIlbn1qz7alno1_540.png" /><br />
<br />
<a href="http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fbiblioklept.org%2F2017%2F12%2F07%2Ftea-wallace-stevens%2F&t=NTFmMGE1MzM2NTY2MWZmNzg5MjJiMjYwNjQ0M2Q3NzFhNGRlMmM3OSxyZElmZE05eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AfU8uepNI5MfudEY7JEMadA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbiblioklept.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168291543566%2Ftea-wallace-stevens&m=1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: white; background-image: linear-gradient(rgba(68, 68, 68, 0) 50%, rgba(68, 68, 68, 0.25) 0px); background-position: 0px 1.15em; background-repeat: repeat-x; background-size: 1em 2px; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0.15em; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">“Tea” — Wallace Stevens</a>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-51181389642698791842017-11-08T11:13:00.001-06:002017-11-08T11:13:43.779-06:00<iframe frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/352912625&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-63145650145445632522017-11-06T08:13:00.002-06:002017-11-06T08:13:45.128-06:00all the need<img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/974aa9e23fdec607e63d8b9c692ea529/tumblr_msjzv45mIx1qlwd8ao1_540.jpg" /><br />
<br />
All the need,<br />
The huge, imperious need of loving, crushed<br />
within the body—<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
— <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Amy Lowell, excerpt of The SistersÆhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-21443042395708604422017-10-22T18:48:00.001-05:002017-10-22T18:48:16.375-05:00Sister<img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/98449a0cefcb0864dbbc9d579b784f87/tumblr_oxwfyrEFbV1vndfypo1_540.jpg" /><br />
<br />
I miss you,<br />
which is to say there is still cinder<br />
collecting on my spine.<br />
I am still in the aftershock<br />
of your turned back.<br />
I miss you,<br />
which is to say it is hard<br />
to mourn the loss of someone<br />
who is still living.<br />
<br />
— <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Schuyler Peck, SisterÆhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-38840956975152750782017-10-18T09:07:00.000-05:002017-10-18T09:08:22.344-05:00Crave<br />
And I want to play hide-and-seek<br />
and give you my clothes<br />
and tell you I like your shoes<br />
and sit on the steps while you take a bath<br />
and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand<br />
and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food<br />
and meet you at Rudy’s and talk about the day<br />
and type your letters and carry your boxes<br />
and laugh at your paranoia<br />
and give you tapes you don’t listen to<br />
and watch great films and watch terrible films<br />
and complain about the radio<br />
and take pictures of you when you’re sleeping<br />
and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight<br />
and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match<br />
and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before<br />
and take you to the eye hospital<br />
and not laugh at your jokes<br />
and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while<br />
and kiss your back and stroke your skin<br />
and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your<br />
and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home<br />
and sit on the steps smoking till you come home<br />
and worry when you’re late<br />
and be amazed when you’re early<br />
and give you sunflowers<br />
and go to your party and dance till I’m black<br />
and be sorry when I’m wrong<br />
and happy when you forgive me<br />
and look at your photos<br />
and wish I’d known you forever<br />
and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin<br />
and get scared when you’re angry<br />
and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue<br />
and your hair to the left and your face oriental<br />
and tell you you’re gorgeous and hug you when you’re anxious<br />
and hold you when you hurt<br />
and want you when I smell you<br />
and offend you when I touch you and whimper<br />
when I’m next to you and whimper<br />
when I’m not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold<br />
when you take the blanket and hot when you don’t and melt<br />
when you smile and dissolve<br />
when you laugh<br />
and not understand why you think I’m rejecting you when I’m not rejecting you<br />
and wonder how you could think I’d ever reject you<br />
and wonder who you are but accept you anyway<br />
and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you<br />
and write poems for you and wonder why you don’t believe me<br />
and have a feeling so deep I can’t find words for it<br />
and want to buy you a kitten I’d get jealous of because it would get more attention than me<br />
and keep you in bed when you have to go<br />
and cry like a baby when you finally do<br />
and get rid of the roaches<br />
and buy you presents you don’t want<br />
and take them away again<br />
and ask you to marry me<br />
and you say no again<br />
but keep on asking<br />
because though you think I don’t mean it<br />
I do always have from the first time I asked you<br />
and wander the city thinking it’s empty without you<br />
and want what you want<br />
and think I’m losing myself but know I’m safe with you<br />
and tell you the worst of me<br />
and try to give you the best of me<br />
because you don’t deserve any less<br />
and answer your questions when I’d rather not<br />
and tell you the truth when I really don’t want to<br />
and try to be honest because I know you prefer it<br />
and think it’s all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life<br />
and forget who I am<br />
and try to get closer to you because it’s a beautiful learning to know you<br />
and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse<br />
and make love with you at three in the morning<br />
and somehow<br />
somehow<br />
somehow<br />
communicate some of the overwhelming<br />
undying<br />
overpowering<br />
unconditional<br />
all-encompassing<br />
heart-enriching<br />
mind-expanding<br />
on-going<br />
never-ending<br />
love<br />
I have for you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="https://www.tagesspiegel.de/images/heprodimagesfotos86120120503kane-jpg/6586520/2-format43.JPG" /><br />
Sarah KaneÆhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17022358.post-61582312020896476662017-09-13T09:20:00.001-05:002017-09-13T09:20:22.300-05:00<img src="https://68.media.tumblr.com/9ed489368a567a2d81b7066ce9677f6a/tumblr_mmc3ke3nAj1r656v2o1_540.png" />Æhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08904733243499019148noreply@blogger.com0