We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost but tonight let us not become tragedies. We are not funeral homes with propane tanks in our windows, lookin’ like cemeteries. Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go. Let go. — Buddy Wakefield, from “We Are Emergencies,” Live… Continue reading Buddy Wakefield
When I meet you, in that moment, I am no longer a part of your future. I start quickly becoming part of your past. But in that instant, I get to share your present, and you, you get to share mine. And that is the ultimate present. — Sarah Kay, from “Hiroshima,” No Matter the… Continue reading Sarah Kay
My mouth is a fire escape. The words coming out don’t care that they are naked. There is something burning in there. — Andrea Gibson, from “I Sing The Body Electric, Especially When My Power’s Out,” The Madness Vase: By Andrea Gibson. (Write Bloody Publishing September 15, 2011)
Here is what I love about the brain: How it remembers. How it sews what soft it can into a blanket for the nights when I am cold with trouble. — Sean Patrick Mulroy, from “The Offering,” Wyvern Lit, Issue Six, Summer 2015
I wish you were here. Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling and they’re falling like they’re falling in love with the ground and the trees are naked and lonely. I keep trying to tell them new leaves will come around in the spring, but you can’t tell trees those things, they’re… Continue reading Andrea Gibson
Listen— the mathematical equivalent of a woman’s beauty is directly relational to the amount or degree other women hate her. — Derrick Brown, from “The Kurosawa Champagne,” Greatest Slits, The Best Poems, Pre-2004. Release Date: February 14, 2005. Label: Write Bloody.
I was a photograph tucked into the corners of your wallet I wish I was a photograph you carried like a future in your pocket I wish I was that face you show to strangers when they ask you where you come from I wish I was that someone that you come from every time… Continue reading Andrea Gibson