2nd floor @laurenscheck - Tumblr Blog

Don’t let a man utilize your pain for his art don’t let them write abt you don’t let them film you don’t let them draw you sculpt you any of it don’t let them rob you of having ownership of what you do with your grief. Don’t let your suffering become someone else’s song. Know this.

The Cape

My hat is heavy with the sky &

the sky is heavy with the rain &

the rain is heavy with I don’t know…

Think about all that wet sand, how you could drown in it, how it lies there all day & all night under the ocean, how it supports the undulation.

Hold my pants, I’m going in, Let’s bury each other for the fun of it,

but who will un-bury us from the tide coming in over our heads?

I don’t know... if it’s my time yet, although

my throat is swollen & sore like the angry ocean is beating against it. What if I am already drowning, no, suffocating in the waves, in the sand under the waves, No need to bury me in it…

If I die, I’m not a legend, If I die look for me in this salty rain.

#poem #poetry #drake?#whitman?#references

Overpass

A man runs across an overpass in a busy city, and you happen to be on the phone with him at the time.

The night is cool and the stars are not bright.

There are about ten seconds of silence during which you are scared for him, for his small legs, but figure if he had been hit by a car, you probably would have heard a scrape of bone against metal by now.

Still, you whisper are you alive into the receiver, and sure enough, he is.

A bit drunk and out of breath, and on his way home to cook some pasta.

#poem #poetry #mine

Walking with a Ghost

This is not the way I thought I would feel: a ghost in round sunglasses, the brilliant noon passing right through me, body carrying me through walls that no longer exist, casting shadows under no building, no tree.

He sends me all these beautiful things in the mail (a signed book of poetry, a pressed sprig of baby’s breath), but never leaves a note. He never has anything to say and still makes me feel so quiet.

So I whisper to a piece of blank paper, but only come up with some yellow daffodils sprouting out of the muddy earth under a shady tree.

#poem #poetry #mine #thanks to tegan and sara for the title

"Waving Adieu, Adieu, Adieu" (Title borrowed from Wallace Stevens poem of the same name)

#silkscreen #screenprint #Wallace Stevens #mine #art

I forget to water the plants, so they die. the spiders fade and turn crisp. even the potted cactus can't bear the dryness. so much bitterness in being left, I think, which means I want him to leave me. which means I want him to come back. I watch ants make their way across the concrete and examine what they carry with them: crumbs of bread, clumps of dirt, shards of graphite that glitter over their backs. where is he?

#prose poem #poetry #mini poem #writing

#doodle #journal #moleskine #micron

tarot

let's say you live in a house where it's forbidden to take off your shoes. let's say there are no candles, but there is road salt (NaCl) that whitens and scratches the hardwood that your father so meticulously placed. let's say it never snows indoors.

#poem #writing #prose poem #poetry #mine

#journal #moleskine #writing #dixon ticonderoga

(belong)

put the things back on the wall that belong on the wall and while you’re at it put the things back in the box that belong in the box and then put the box in the closet because it belongs in the closet. then take the envelope out of the mailbox and take the photos out of the envelope and check the envelope for a note that will not be there and hold that emptiness in your hands because the emptiness belongs in your hands.

#poem #poetry #prose poem #writing

Note: Dec. 1, 2013 12:43 PM

3. I made sheets out of the shirts you left at my house.

You wonder why I'm always so tired.

#note #writing #poetry

(already i feel like i have walked the entire earth without you)

I keep seeing things I know you would love- pictures of a blonde holding a pygmy goat, a website that creates a font out of handwriting. On the rare instance a moon creeps into the sky before the sun has set, I hope you think of me- you must recognize its strange glittering.

#poem #poetry #prose poem #mine #writing

Now I'm Googling how to spell another boy's name. (Is there an "h" in there? Is this what you wanted?)

#mini poem #mini prose poem

#doodle #moleskine #journal #Wallace Stevens

#watercolor #painting

#journal #moleskine

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