You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it-it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk. But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

I was 14 and madly in love for the first time. He was 21. He made me suddenly, unaccustomedly beautiful with his kisses and mix tapes. During the year of elation and longing, he never mentioned that he had a girlfriend who lived across the street. A serious girl. A girl his age. A girl he loved. Unlike inappropriate, high school, secret me ( Read more... )

There is a kind of love called maintenance ( Read more... )

Of all the things that are not eternal ( Read more... )

( the entire poem )

We can never know
He answered me like the stillness of a star
That silences us asking

We are and that is all our answer
We are and what we are can suffer
But...
                      what suffers loves.

And love
Will live its suffering again,
Risk its own defeat again,
Endure the loss of everything again
And yet again and ( Read more... )

I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.

It is time to lose your life,
Even if it isn't over.
It is time to say goodbye and try to die.
It is October.

A thousand half loves
must be forsaken to take
one whole heart home.

You think me unsurprising. Wait ( Read more... )