January 2012
1 post
December 2011
1 post
“Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die”
– Bashō, trans. Hamill
November 2011
4 posts
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus →
BY MARY JO BANG How could I have failed you like this? The narrator asks The object. The object is a box Of ashes. How could I not have saved you, A boy made of bone and blood. A boy Made of a mind. Of years. A hand And paint on canvas. A marble carving. How can I not reach where you are And pull you back. How can I be And you not. You’re forever on the platform Seeing the...
“The arches of her feet are like voices
of children calling in the grove of...”
– Jack Gilbert, from Finding Something
September 2011
1 post
1 tag
“The life of the cultivated mind should be private, reticent, discreet: Most of...”
– Christopher Hitchens
August 2011
7 posts
3 tags
to Jane Cooney Baker, died 1-22-62
I will not find you on the street nor will the phone ring, and each moment will not let me be in peace. it is not enough that there are many deaths and that this is not the first;
it is not enough that I may live many more days, even perhaps, more years. it is not enough. the phone is like a dead animal that will not speak. and when it speaks again it will always be the wrong voice now. I have...
2 tags
“When you finish a story, you immediately feel ashamed of having told it.”
– Dostoevsky
5 tags
“we are in bed together
laughing
and we don’t care
about anything”
– Charles Bukowski
1 tag
Russian Literature: Yesenin's Goodbye, my friend,... →
До свиданья, друг мой, до свиданья. Милый мой, ты у меня в груди. Предназначенное расставанье Обещает встречу впереди. До свиданья, друг мой, без руки, без слова, Не грусти и не печаль бровей,- В этой жизни умирать не ново, Но и жить, конечно, не новей. Goodbye, my friend, goodbye My love, you…
July 2011
5 posts
“I am an expert at speaking while barely saying a word; I’ve been speaking...”
– Dostoevsky
1 tag
“I remember that, already a long time ago, when I would hear someone talking or...”
– Venedikt Erofeev
“I don’t mean trouble; please don’t put me down or get upset. I am...”
– Bob Dylan
June 2011
1 post
May 2011
7 posts
“there is moss on the walls
and the stain of thought and failure and
waiting”
– Charles Bukowski
“…recite the list
of what you’ve learned to do without.
It is stronger than...”
– Stephen Dunn, Traveling
I almost went to bed without remembering the four white violets I put in the button-hole of your green sweater and how I kissed you then and you kissed me shy as though I’d never been your lover.
Leonard Cohen
“When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They...”
– Jonathan Safran Foer
April 2011
6 posts
“I slice oranges in the kitchen.
The countertop worn, notched
with the story of...”
– Rishma Dunlop, Ain’t No Cure
March 2011
9 posts
I'm bare boned and crazy for you.
“Love leaped out at us like a murderer jumping out of a dark alley.”
– Mikhail Bulgakov (via asthecoffeesteeps)
true
day-breaking:
one of Lorca’s best lines is, “agony, always agony …” think of this when you kill a cockroach or pick up a razor to shave or awaken in the morning to face the sun.
Charles Bukowski
untitled ix
day-breaking:
rumpled sheets and the slowly wakening city. a cigarette idle on the ashtray. i think about how the crook of your arm would feel on the skin of my neck, if my lips could meet that spot just beneath the shell of your ear.
i have understood desire and its many colors, and i know that this kind is rare.
(via slapdash-lines)
“Tonight a falcon walked in, and my heart sank inside me.”
– Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
February 2011
4 posts
1 tag
moss., william thomas moore
what will happen now? she asks. now, i say, now, the dishes will pile up in the sink and there will be only one pair of shoes at the door.
January 2011
6 posts
“Those faces you see every day on the streets were not created entirely without...”
– Charles Bukowski (via doctorhotcoffee)
bukowski
I will remember your small room the feel of you the light in the window your records your books our morning coffee our noons our nights our bodies spilled together sleeping the tiny flowing currents immediate and forever your leg my leg your arm my arm your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.
churchofkatemoss:
I am in chains. Don’t touch my chains. - Franz Kafka