March 24, 2012
The best things in life are free The bigger they are, the harder they fall The bottom line is the bottom line The boy is father to the man The bread always falls buttered side down The child is the father of the man The cobbler always wears the worst shoes The course of true love never did run smooth The customer is always right The darkest hour is just before the dawn The devil finds work for idle hands to do The devil looks after his own The early bird catches the worm The end justifies the means The exception which proves the rule The female of the species is more deadly than the male The fruit does not fall far from the tree The good die young

The best things in life are free
The bigger they are, the harder they fall
The bottom line is the bottom line
The boy is father to the man
The bread always falls buttered side down
The child is the father of the man
The cobbler always wears the worst shoes
The course of true love never did run smooth
The customer is always right
The darkest hour is just before the dawn
The devil finds work for idle hands to do
The devil looks after his own
The early bird catches the worm
The end justifies the means
The exception which proves the rule
The female of the species is more deadly than the male
The fruit does not fall far from the tree
The good die young

11:17am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyIUJsIs
March 22, 2012

ilovereadingandwriting:

My dream home…

9:27am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyIO1zkt
(Notes: 184)
  
March 22, 2012
Sometimes happiness feels very fragile - Feels fingertipped - a cracked sheet half ice half air Translucent over fear Imperfectly concealing deep despair Is that enough for now To slide along the surface of this pleasure To point towards the next Thing as if hope were joy, as if each plan were the endeavour Done and emptied here before itself when it is so much needed, borrowing bliss Against the certainty of shame Biting the bitter fruit as it is seeded Licking in advance the fuzz of the moment taking the silver prickles on your tongue putting it aside to rot Hearing the menacing hiss And creak of sorrow death Stepping forward onto anyway

Sometimes happiness feels very fragile -
Feels fingertipped - a cracked sheet half ice half air
Translucent over fear
Imperfectly concealing deep despair

Is that enough for now
To slide along the surface of this pleasure
To point towards the next
Thing as if hope were joy, as if each plan were the endeavour

Done and emptied here before itself when it is so much needed,
borrowing bliss
Against the certainty of shame
Biting the bitter fruit as it is seeded

Licking in advance the fuzz of the moment taking the silver prickles on your tongue
putting it aside to rot

Hearing the menacing hiss
And creak of sorrow death
Stepping forward onto anyway

9:23am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyIO1e94
February 5, 2012
she took corners off books nibbling them absentmindedly taking paper into herself absorbing nothing but the fiber and the place of books marked by her careless absorption she wanted to remind herself of wood that the paper and the words were craft and cunning, cork and bark and alchemy were all pulped, reconsituted, placed in time and markable remarkable, she thought - with the give of paper in her teeth tasting ink

she took corners off books
nibbling them absentmindedly
taking paper into herself
absorbing nothing

but the fiber and the place of books
marked by her careless absorption
she wanted to remind herself of wood
that the paper and the words were
craft and cunning,
cork and bark and alchemy
were all pulped, reconsituted,
placed in time and markable
remarkable,
she thought - with the give of paper in her teeth
tasting ink

11:43pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyFzc2Vk
(Notes: 1)
  
January 9, 2012

2. moving silence

- a flat ocean with my tongue

I do not think the ripples lap your ribs

5:20am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQy9gpSm8
January 9, 2012
The word nightfall As if darkness collapses As if like paper struck by water We crumple into night.

The word nightfall
As if darkness collapses

As if like paper struck by water
We crumple into night.

5:17am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyABbMQ1
(Notes: 1)
  
December 11, 2011
No, you couldn’t stand to love and be loved. she could not have faith in you Knowing you faithless I hold - hold back and holding weighted on - wait on and to destruction. Crashing. You are as breakable as your vows - your vows as delicate as your words, break on - break over me they drive me back - I am swept back and back and stagger, struck I cannot hold my ground in you. You leave me seeping into sand You are mystical, Ghalib, and, also, you speak too beautifully. Are you divine, or just drunk as usual? Tribute to nineteenth-century Urdu poet, Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib, trans. Vijay Seshadri, in Poetry (Apr., 2009)/here.

No, you couldn’t stand
to love and be loved.

she could not have faith in you
Knowing you faithless

I hold - hold back
and holding weighted on -
wait on and to destruction.
Crashing.

You are as breakable as your vows
- your vows as delicate as your words, break on - break over me
they drive me back - I am swept back and back and stagger, struck
I cannot hold my ground in you.

You leave me
seeping into sand

You are mystical, Ghalib, and, also, you speak too beautifully.
Are you divine, or just drunk as usual?

Tribute to nineteenth-century Urdu poet, Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib, trans. Vijay Seshadri, in Poetry (Apr., 2009)/here.

2:15am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyD5pK-9
December 5, 2011
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Audio of the Drayton Tribute poem.

Now all I need is Dave Carter to make this super multimedia.

10:55pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyCtIa45
(Notes: 1)
  
December 5, 2011
Oh let me die, or you, or this; where now we strain towards a kiss, and now away. My bones are pressed against my skin. Oh god I miss not being pushed, not feeling pulled or, being by this passion ruled. in greasy static magnet fields - we slide around each other, fooled into this slick and cold suspense I throb from warmth to frozen tense; both past and future clot my tongue - I cannot lay this out in sense. I cannot lay this thing and grieve. ‘Nay, I have done’, I want to breathe. now, at the last gasp of love’s latest breath, Still - you could lie, and I, believe. Tribute to Drayton ‘love’s farewell’ - (available online at www.bartleby.com/106/37.html)

Oh let me die, or you, or this;
where now we strain towards a kiss,
and now away. My bones are pressed
against my skin. Oh god I miss

not being pushed, not feeling pulled
or, being by this passion ruled.
in greasy static magnet fields -
we slide around each other, fooled

into this slick and cold suspense
I throb from warmth to frozen tense;
both past and future clot my tongue -
I cannot lay this out in sense.

I cannot lay this thing and grieve.
‘Nay, I have done’, I want to breathe.
now, at the last gasp of love’s latest breath,
Still - you could lie, and I, believe.

Tribute to Drayton ‘love’s farewell’ - (available online at www.bartleby.com/106/37.html)

5:29pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyCsHMV3
(Notes: 1)
  
November 24, 2011
orpheus and morpheus

you’re sound and sleep to me

which is to say that you 

well up in silences; and

I’ve found you close - pushed behind my eyes 

staring through to dark.

-

you framed yourself as orpheus

dragging death through death

the dark - straining with;

eyes front - as you swore

so I filled gaps

until I thought you were

sound - sounder than you are -

you cannot be

sound sleep to me,

looking back

7:44pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyCMTYPD
November 20, 2011
Oh that my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth I could lick the roof of the mouth of the sky Take clouds between my teeth Like smoke, and sigh Hot fog up the wet flanks of mountains

Oh that my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth

I could lick the roof of the mouth of the sky

Take clouds between my teeth
Like smoke, and sigh

Hot fog up the wet flanks of mountains

8:15pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyCCDtPu
October 20, 2011
The man with the thin lipped smile is death It’s not a pleasant smile Sometimes he’ll stand behind you a finger on that point; - the knob of bone at the back of your neck, at the top of your spine Or death will slide a hand around to cup your stomach, Quite intimately - sickening Mostly moments in the retch flinch lurching of a death-fear can be put off, laid aside, breathed through . At least Breathed at Breathed up to At some point it stops working.

The man with the thin lipped smile is death
It’s not a pleasant smile
Sometimes he’ll stand behind you
a finger on that point;
- the knob of bone at the back of your neck, at the top of your spine
Or death will slide a hand around to cup your stomach,
Quite intimately - sickening
Mostly moments
in the retch flinch lurching of a death-fear
can be put off, laid
aside, breathed through . At least
Breathed at
Breathed up to
At some point it stops working.

2:25am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyAuZqFj
October 13, 2011
I did not see the wind But I saw the trees writhe and buck - Its hands Pushed in the crumpled faces of the peopleleaning so compressed against thin cloth I did not see your faceI saw my vision blurred with heat or lust at best I felt i heard your presence pressed out in the bloodsound thunder in my neck in its hot carotid beating as condensation slipped on glassdrags spaces in the fog in slipping drops at last

I did not see the wind
But I saw the trees writhe and buck - Its hands
Pushed in the crumpled faces of the people
leaning so
compressed against thin cloth

I did not see your face
I saw 
my vision blurred with heat or
lust at best
I felt i heard your presence pressed
out in the bloodsound thunder in my neck
in its hot carotid beating
as condensation slipped on glass
drags spaces in the fog in slipping 
drops at last

9:56am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyAdApMA
(Notes: 1)
  
October 6, 2011
I never caught the imagery of birds;they are too made of tiny bones for me.They panic with the eyes of dinosaurs. They are the potsherd Babylon,the empire shrunk to bony legged beggars snatching scraps

I never caught the imagery of birds;
they are too made of tiny bones for me.
They panic with the eyes of dinosaurs.

They are the potsherd Babylon,
the empire shrunk to bony legged beggars
snatching scraps

1:40am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyALBqpp
October 4, 2011
don’t pray in rain tie wings to your paper prayers take paper, string and folding, youconsign your parchment birds to air.With sunlight shining yellow through them like the fabled thousand paper cranes,a thousand thousand folded golden panesof paper lit like glass. Lifting light into themselves, they passdiffusing sunimpossible in number, one by onebent necks as slim as grass. The coda of the story anyway, she sighsthe girl falls as in rain, and dieslike paper under water drawn translucent   winging into pieces                              gone

don’t pray in rain


tie wings to your paper prayers
 take paper, string and folding, you
consign your parchment birds to air.
With sunlight shining yellow through 
them like the fabled thousand paper cranes,
a thousand thousand folded golden panes
of paper lit like glass. 
Lifting light into themselves, they pass
diffusing sun
impossible in number, one by one
bent necks as slim as grass.

The coda of the story anyway, she sighs
the girl falls as in rain, and dies
like paper under water drawn 
translucent
   winging into pieces
                             gone

6:31am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZfiIQyAGhF6l
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