3SIXTY5* @lopesided - Tumblr Blog

I fell in love with autumn when I discovered how little fires fell from the sky dry as leaves— as if dying could be a miracle if one just dressed the part.

#poetry

A man dies, but you only remember the boy, a lifetime like a blink then a nod— if I could ask any questions, they would be composed of whispers, —silent like a blink, a nod.

#poetry #rip friend

triumphant you were there— (with a song on your lips,

beautiful like the sight of night after days & days of sun)—

and so much easier on the eyes.

#poetry

I’m watching a person decay, she’s crawling into her skin: a reverse metamorphosis— a frailty of skin and bones and just when I think she cannot get any smaller, a wave crashes over her and strips her of all the muscle she carried yesterday, and suddenly tomorrow seems weaker, less tangible, less important.

#poetry #grandmother

I've bit everything except my own tongue & like a song, words spilled across— lines like trembling to soothe & dislocate, adding melody to each day turned night turned day.

#poetry

I love this.

#poetry #nick Flynn

... — I mean the conscious heart, the fact that we are the only things in the entire universe that know true consciousness. We’re the only things—leaving religion out of it—we’re the only things in the world that know spring is coming.

Jack Gilbert, The Art of Poetry No. 91, the Paris Review Interview

#poetry #jack gilbert #the paris review #consciousness

belladonnaforbrunch

Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall in love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin - find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that that was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.

Maya Angelou, RIP (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

there's a soreness in my core like burning wood & splinters

& nothing, not even the hum of spring against my bedroom window

can heal this pain. I think I'd like to be sung to as if I were the Queen

Bee tucked away in some corner warmed by the sound of honey

dripping between combs & bodies vibrating as one.

#poetry

On Losing

I felt it long before I heard it drop.

#poetry #fragments

In that well at her hips I tossed two coins, forgotten prayers against flesh: with no real promise of divinity but two wishes against luck.

Somedays I let silence consume me, it’s the closest thing to touch I’ve felt for years: a woman on the outskirts of her own skin, like an abandoned town, war torn.

#poetry

There are things I can’t unread: the feel of skin, like Braille, beneath my fingertips, or on my tongue, your name spelled out in every night, in street lights, and moon.

#poetry

Between Walls —after William Carlos Williams at the farthest end of the house where our bed stands shadows fall like hands that always reach out but never take hold

#poetry #after wiliam carlos williams #between walls

43/365*

We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless.

-Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov

fearing the loss of meaning, I sheltered my words beneath my tongue, relied on movement: a nod, a blink, a curl of the lips, an extended palm.

#poetry #lolita #vladimir nabokov #poem

and sometimes I still dream with open eyes,

a wandering in light: a waking surprise.

#poetry

sometimes skin is kissed beyond the surface, & a rising like mountains from ocean depths emerges and conquers the finest of enamel, the smoothest of fields.

#poetry #slowly making a comeback

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