Kevin A. GonzalezcielxinfiniDecember 15 2010, 21:42:56 UTC
1999
We were driving to your funeral & our father was not crying because he has a way of tying ribbons around grief. It was the year we learned the piercing that prefaces the blood holds the most delicate of darknesses. Then it was the year we opened all our faucets & waited for the sea to bleed to death. Then it was the year we set fire to your mitt. Then, suddenly the year we started to believe every thorn was just a bridge. Then the year all we talked about was boxing. Then the year my stomach hurt all year, & then the year no one spoke of you.
If there were an antonym for suicide we could all choose when to be born. I would have been born after that day so I could not remember you. So my fingers would stop pointing at all the things that aren’t there.
Jeffrey McDanielcielxinfiniDecember 15 2010, 21:45:14 UTC
The Quiet World
In an effort to get people to look into each other’s eyes more, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long distance lover and proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn’t respond, I know she’s used up all her words so I slowly whisper I love you, thirty-two and a third times. After that, we just sit on the line and listen to each other breathe.
e.e. cummingscielxinfiniDecember 15 2010, 21:46:37 UTC
it may not always be so; and i say
it may not always be so; and i say that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart, as mine in time not far away; if on another’s face your sweet hair lay in such a silence as i know, or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be - you of my heart, send me a little word; that i may go unto him, and take his hands, saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
Comments 25
We were driving to your funeral
& our father was not crying
because he has a way
of tying ribbons around grief.
It was the year we learned
the piercing that prefaces the blood
holds the most delicate of darknesses.
Then it was the year we opened
all our faucets & waited for the sea
to bleed to death. Then it was the year
we set fire to your mitt. Then, suddenly
the year we started to believe
every thorn was just a bridge.
Then the year all we talked about
was boxing. Then the year
my stomach hurt all year, & then
the year no one spoke of you.
If there were an antonym for suicide
we could all choose when to be born.
I would have been born after that day
so I could not remember you.
So my fingers would stop pointing
at all the things that aren’t there.
Reply
In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long
distance lover and proudly say
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn’t respond, I know
she’s used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
Reply
it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be -
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
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Reply
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