cool

cool

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.

Tags: poetry

pandyland comics

pandyland comics

poetrysociety:

“In a Station of the Metro,” first published today in 1913.

poetrysociety:

“In a Station of the Metro,” first published today in 1913.

"I wonder which is preferable, to walk around all your life swollen up with your own secrets until you burst from the pressure of them, or to have them sucked out of you, every paragraph, every sentence, every word of them, so at the end you’re depleted of all that was once as precious to you as hoarded gold, as close to you as your skin - everything that was of the deepest importance to you, everything that made you cringe and wish to conceal, everything that belonged to you alone - and must spend the rest of your days like an empty sack flapping in the wind, an empty sack branded with a bright fluorescent label so that everyone will know what sort of secrets used to be inside you?"

— Margaret Atwood (via alfsaga)

(via selma-a)

"To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest. To live fully is to be always in no-man’s-land, to experience each moment as completely new and fresh. To live is to be willing to die over and over again."

— Pema Chodron (via lazyyogi)

awritersruminations:

I wanted to choose words that even you
would have to be changed by

— Adrienne Rich, from “Implosions

artinparsi:

Khvaju Bridge (Pul e Khvaju), Isfahan, IranDate: 1650/1060 AH, from Safavid era 17th Century

artinparsi:

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.

Tags: poetry


Happy Birthday, Uncle Walt.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Walt.

(Source: hoshomccreesh, via poetsorg)

poetsorg:

<3 WW

"You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame. How could you rise anew if you have not first become ashes?"

— Friedrich Nietzsche (via lola-a-soul-traveler)

(Source: raul218, via bythereins)

Tags: poetry