Carillon à Musique (poem draft)
Pluck my teeth
and you will find
sound slipping off the pins.
Cylinders revolve
in wind me up tension to
displace my teeth.
On this bedplate,
you steel comb
to screw, hearing
pain set into place.
Your ratchet lever,
your windup key
springs the motor of me
to make music
of displacement.
“In a Station of the Metro,” first published today in 1913.
— Margaret Atwood (via alfsaga)
(via selma-a)
— Pema Chodron (via lazyyogi)
I wanted to choose words that even you
would have to be changed by
— Adrienne Rich, from “Implosions”
Khvaju Bridge (Pul e Khvaju), Isfahan, Iran
Date: 1650/1060 AH, from Safavid era 17th Century
[Tomorrow might be…] by Joe Zendarski
Tomorrow might be green birds and furious
I’m so furious and hungry sweating in fern-
like patterns hungry for something birdlike
but green I’ve been in headlocks I want to cry
tomorrow tomorrow is a word that means
peace I will be televised and Kentuckian sick
my head sick sick my head so many hawks
floating in anticipation.
<3 WW
— Friedrich Nietzsche (via lola-a-soul-traveler)
(Source: raul218, via bythereins)




