There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. It is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve. ― William S. Burroughs
… This morning my love was briefly stuck in my throat as I remembered all the soil and sadness, remembered seeing you on certain streets and corners, remembered all the rubble and the clang. Remember how it is and isn’t fragile? How it speaks in ears and fingers takes days and hours and still it… Continue reading Olena Kalytiak Davis
Mental labels don’t define who I am, time and aging only gets me closer to those I love, will love, and have loved. — S.L. Cato, from “Hello May, Birthday month, musing on aging gracefully”
You know the answer and still I have to say it: Poetry has got nothing to do with poetry. Poetry is how the air goes green before thunder, is the sound you make when you come, and why you live and how you bleed, and The sound you make or don’t make when you die.… Continue reading Gwendolyn MacEwen
Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen. ― Jerome K. Jerome, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow. (Mondial October 19, 2005) Originally published 1886.
Nocturne Tonight all the leaves are paper spoons in a broth of wind. Last week they made a darker sky below the sky. The houses have swallowed their colors, and each car moves in the blind sack of its sound like the slipping of water. Flowing means falling very slowly— the river passing under the… Continue reading Wayne Miller
‘Forests have secrets,’ he said gently. ‘It’s practically what they’re for. To hide things. To separate one world from another.’ — Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless. (Tor Books; First Edition edition March 29, 2011)