“The body will always make more room / for grief.”
— Kate Gaskin, from “Poem with a Possible Unidentified Flying Object,” published in Tin House
Etikett: poetry
I will not be another flower picked for my beauty and left to die. I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget.
Erin Van Vuren (via loveage-moondream)
This is the sound of ten million girls
singing of a time in the universe
when they were born with tigers
breathing between their thighs;
when they set out for battle
with all three eyes on fire,
their golden breasts held high
like weapons to the sky.— Tishani Doshi, from “The River of Girls,” Everything Begins Elsewhere
I would love to talk to you about many things and see you listening silently; to read to you sometime.
Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Lou Salomé witten c. April 1904
He is like a moonbeam, like a shaft of silver.
Salomé by Oscar Wilde
“…my dreams slice me to pieces.”
— Anne Sexton, from Lost Lies (via writemeanna)
“Don’t look so frightened,
this is just a passing phase, one of my bad days.”— (One of My Turns) Pink Floyd
how many poems must you write to convince yourself / you have a family? everyone leaves & you end up the stranger.
Fatimah Asghar, from “Ghareeb,” If They Come for Us
June, July, August.
Everything wrong, and nowhere to go.
Mary Oliver, from Devotions: The Selected Poems; “August,” (edited)
“Moonlight is sculpture; sunlight is painting.”
— Hawthorne, American Note-Books, 1838 (via lucybiederman)
beberequin 