-
"the things that breathe," marya hornbacher.
I walk around the house, smoothing
The paint on the walls.
It’s quarter to three in the morning.
I check the locks and sashes, check the breathing
Of the things that breathe, holding my hand
Over their mouths.
Technically, I think, I could kill them.
I could learn to kill,
Anyone could.
It wouldn't be hard.
Instead, I shut their doors one by one
Go down ( Read more... ) -
- george r. stewart, "earth abides"
“In this also we are men, that we think of the dead. Once it was not so, and when one of us died, he lay where he lay by the cave-mouth and we ran in and out there, not standing quite upright as we ran. Now we stand upright, and now also we think of the dead.
So, when the comrade lies there, we do not let him lie where he died. And we do not take ( Read more... ) -
magnolia electric co./jason molina - hold on, magnolia
Hold on, Magnolia, to that great highway moon
No one has to be that strong
But if you’re stubborn like me
I know what you’re trying to be
Hold on, Magnolia, I hear that station bell ring
You might be holding the last light I see
Before the dark finally gets a hold of me
Hold on, Magnolia, I know what a true friend you’ve been
In my life I have had my ( Read more... ) -
-from 'not so far as the forest' by edna st. vincent millay
"Night falls fast.
Today is in the past.
Blown from the dark hill hither to my door
Three flakes, then four
Arrive, then many more." -
--from 'madness' by marya hornbacher
"I put my head down on the table and cry. Because it's happened again. I'm found out. I'm damaged. Fucked up. Broken. A fraud. I knew he would figure out sooner or later that I was impossible to love. And now he has, and I love him, and I'm certain he has tried, really tried, to love me back. But trying to love me is too much for any sane person to ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.
-The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood -
-from 'night surfing', by ken gram.
"If you could have seen me.
My eyes fog, night becomes my mind,
I think of your voice in broken Spanish.
Regresame, I believe you said.
I will, but not how you'd expect." -
(Untitled)
"Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well."
-Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters -
just once, anne sexton.
Just once I knew what life was for.
In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood;
walked there along the Charles River,
watched the lights copying themselves,
all neoned and strobe-hearted, opening
their mouths as wide as opera singers;
counted the stars, my little campaigners,
my scar daisies, and knew that I walked my love
on the night green side of it and ( Read more... )