Untitled

[cjanester]

Hickory Street, New Orleans by Yona Harvey - Poems | Academy of American Poets

Hickory Street, New Orleans

Like, the last thing I said to you was let’s buy a duplex,

[thepotwatcher]

“Love, Here’s the Deal What I first wanted to say was more fire. Was that we needed fire to turn all the wicked tongues and hands and eyes to ash. Fire to make of the knife-sharp and useless theories the smoke, the subtle poison that they are. Wanted to say it’s a burning we need, and from the ash some new thing. But that sounds like a bullshit poem in the making. Besides—to be true—fire does not a bloody land make bloom. Does not of the thousand razor-wired walls, or the documents, or the cities and cities and cities of dead turning beneath our feet make a kind of music. Who’s the genius that came up with that one? Here’s what I think I’m trying to say: Somewhere there’s a road. Some of us are going to find it. You can come if you want.”

— Ross Gay

[cjanester]

Love, Here's The Deal - Document - Gale Academic OneFile

https://go.gale.com/ps/i.do?p=AONE&u=googlescholar&id=GALE|A260940214&v=2.1&it=r&sid=googleScholar&asid=406e607b

[cjanester]

American Poetry Review – Poems

American Poetry Review - Ross Gay - "Two Bikers Embrace on Broad Street"

Published in American Poetry Review - Volume 35  |  No. 05

[havingapoemwithyou]

opera singer by Ross Gay

[apoemaday]

Remembering

by Rainer Maria Rilke

And you wait. You wait for the one thing that will change your life, make it more than it is— something wonderful, exceptional, stones awakening, depths opening to you.

In the dusky bookstalls old books glimmer gold and brown. You think of lands you journeyed through, of paintings and a dress once worn by a woman you never found again.

And suddenly you know: that was enough. You rise and there appears before you in all its longings and hesitations the shape of what you lived.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Garden pen, Water color 2010 ©Sanae Sugimoto

* * * *

Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don't know what work these conditions are doing inside you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know, after all, that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien; so one must simply help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and to break out with it, since that is the way it gets better.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

[Centre of Applied Jungian Studies]

[smokefalls]

… one of life’s true delights is casting about in bed, drifting in and out of dream, as the warm hand of the sun falls through the blinds, moving ever so slowly across your body.

Ross Gay, The Book of Delights