rust and stardust

Oct 30
Nov 28

Passing white daisies, taking turns
All those evenings on the back deck of our first apartment
They meant everything but the wind just carried them off
And you can’t go back now, just a passing moment gone

Please slow it down
There’s a secret magic password
That you only notice when you’re looking back at it
And all I wanna do is turn around

I became a criminal when I fell in love.

Before that I was a waitress.

 

I didn’t want to go to Chicago with you.

I wanted to marry you, I wanted

Your wife to suffer.

 

I wanted her life to be like a play

In which all the parts are sad parts.

 

Does a good person

Think this way? I deserve

 

Credit for my courage—

 

I sat in the dark on your front porch.

Everything was clear to me:

If your wife wouldn’t let you go

That proved she didn’t love you.

If she loved you

Wouldn’t she want you to be happy?

 

I think now

If I felt less I would be

A better person. I was

A good waitress.

I could carry eight drinks.

 

I used to tell you my dreams.

Last night I saw a woman sitting in a dark bus—

In the dream, she’s weeping, the bus she’s on

Is moving away. With one hand

She’s waving; the other strokes

An egg carton full of babies.

 

The dream doesn’t rescue the maiden.

-Louise Gluck

Dec 14
asofterworld consistently makes me feel more like a rational human being whose feelings are shared by others instead of a crazy, violent lunatic who hides under former/current/whatever lovers’ beds with a rose, a print out of text messages, and a vehement speech.
Dec 14

asofterworld consistently makes me feel more like a rational human being whose feelings are shared by others instead of a crazy, violent lunatic who hides under former/current/whatever lovers’ beds with a rose, a print out of text messages, and a vehement speech.

How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder
that a whole city—arches, pillars, colonnades, 
not to mention vehicles and animals—had all 
one fine day gone under?

I mean, I said to myself, the world was small then.
Surely a great city must have been missed?
I miss our old city —

white pepper, white pudding, you and I meeting 
under fanlights and low skies to go home in it. Maybe 
what really happened is 

this: the old fable-makers searched hard for a word
to convey that what is gone is gone forever and 
never found it. And so, in the best traditions of 

where we come from, they gave their sorrow a name
and drowned it.
-Eavan Boland
Dec 25
Atlantis-A Lost Sonnet

zorronaps:

i cry and laugh and hav real human emtions and sumtimes they arnt the best cuz i can get mean or jealus cuz i get afarid of loss but u no wat im good 4 u and sumday sumbuddy will luv me for keepin it realz maybe not u maybe not 2day but sumday like this post if u agreer

(Source: nets-and-nets-and-nets)

Dec 29
im good 4 u
Jan 5
Jan 5

September

 

Tonight there must be people who are getting what they want.

I let my oars fall into the water.

Good for them. Good for them, getting what they want.

 

The night is so still that I forget to breathe.

The dark air is getting colder. Birds are leaving.

 

Tonight there are people getting just what they need.

 

The air is so still that it seems to stop my heart.

I remember you in a black and white photograph

taken this time of some year. You were leaning against

a half-shed tree, standing in the leaves the tree had lost.

 

When I finally exhale it takes forever to be over.

 

Tonight, there are people who are so happy,

that they have forgotten to worry about tomorrow.

 

Somewhere, people have entirely forgotten about tomorrow.

My hand trails in the water.

I should not have dropped those oars. Such a soft wind.

 

-Jennifer Michael Hecht

Jan 13
Jan 14