#alice notely

[typewriter-worries]

you look back and think, that was heaven, so of course it had to end.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, Martin McDonagh | Swan-like embrace, Paris, 2001, Nan Goldin | Homegirl, King Princess | Kisses, Josh Kern | Heaven, Mitski | Intimacy, Barbara Kane | Take Me to Church, Hozier | Christian Colomer | Giovanni's Room, James Baldwin | tsapa.jpg on Instagram | In the Pines, Alice Notley

[evenasmallcough]

broken-hearted is more person than half- . hearted is

. What good is that . though?

. the poets know. But . I don’t.

- Alice Notely, Sweetheart

[infpisme]

[dk-thrive]

Gee whiz it’s all fucking heart- breaking.

Alice Notley, from “12/9,” Grave of Light: New and Selected Poems. (Wesleyan August 26, 2008)

[kafk-a]

If this voice can return like         a body It resembles something that's already been, Changing.

Alice Notley, "Perhaps Not for You" from Songs and Stories of the Ghouls

[kafk-a]

I have a destiny. My death will not complete it.

Alice Notely, from To a New Sex

[honeymooninthefridge]

Alice Notley, BOMB Magazine Fall 2015

[lunchboxpoems]

THIS FIRE

No one loves you more ... more ... more ...     There were sincere lies everywhere placed directly before the next step. Does everyone pretend, part of alive I am proposing words — All structures have crumbled in earliest death. I’m crossing the yellow sands It’s so hard to know without relating it, to you shaping a heart, take hold of me and someone says I don’t get it! You don’t have to have love, or you do, which? I don’t think you do; before the explosion? I was here without it and have been in many places loveless. I don’t want you to know what I’m really thinking or do I, before creation when there might be no “I knew” Everything one’s ever said not quite true. He or she be- trays you; why you want to hurt me ... bad Want to, or just do? Treason was provoked everywhere even here, by knowing one was one and I was alone, a pale hue. The sky of death is milky green today, like a poison pool near a desert mine. Picked prickly pear fruit and I tasted it, then we drove on, maybe to Yarnell. These outposts where I grew up; I didn’t do that I have no ... identity, and the love is an object to kick as you walk on the blazing bare ground, where ...     sentimental, when what I love, I ... don’t have that one word. This fire all there is ... to find ... I find it You have to find it. It isn’t love, it’s what? ALICE NOTLEY