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Sharing Poetry: Charles Bukowski, "them and us"
they were all out on the front porch
talking:
Hemingway, Faulkner, T.S. Eliot,
Ezra Pound, Hamsun, Wally Stevens,
e.e. cummings and a few others.
“listen,” said my mother, “can’t you
ask them to stop talking?”
“no,” I said.
“they are talking garbage,” said my
father, “they ought to…Beautiful
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Sharing Poetry: Robert Graves, "Counting the Beats"
You, love, and I,
(He whispers) you and I,
And if no more than only you and I
What care you or I?
Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.
Cloudless day,
Night, and a cloudless day,
Yet the…
Beauty
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Sharing Poetry: e.e. cummings, "if I have made, my lady, intricate"
If I have made, my lady, intricate
imperfect various things chiefly which wrong
your eyes (frailer than most deep dreams are frail)
songs less firm than your body’s whitest song
upon my mind - if I have failed to snare
the glance too shy - if through my singing slips
the very skilful… -
The 27-game season starts now.
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I can’t sleep anymore. Shit…
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In a country that now regards money as the highest good, doing something for the love of it is not just odd, but downright perverse. Imagine the horror and anger felt by parents of a son or daughter who was destined for the Harvard Business School and a career in finance but discovered an interest in poetry instead. Imagine their enticing descriptions of the future riches and power awaiting their child while trying to make him or her reconsider the decision. “Who has recognized you as a poet? Who has enrolled you in the ranks of poets?,” the trial judge shouted at the Russian poet Josef Brodsky, before sentencing him to five years of hard labor. “No one,” Brodsky replied. He could have been speaking for all the sons and daughters who had to face their parents’ wrath.
Posted on August 21, 2012 via The New York Review of Books with 168 notes
Source: nybooks.com
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Posted on August 17, 2012 via My Darkened Eyes with 2,494 notes
Source: mydarkenedeyes
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fata organa
n. a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, idly locked in the middle of some group conversation, their eyes glinting with vulnerability or quiet anticipation or cosmic boredom—as if you could see backstage through a gap in the curtains, watching stagehands holding their ropes at the ready, actors in costume mouthing their lines, fragments of bizarre sets waiting for some other production. -
Working the day after surgery was a bad idea. I feel like my head might explode and my jaw will fuse shut
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Finished this up today. I would appreciate it if you could give it a listen
Matt Delbridge, age 18
Running full speed with a blindfold on
