You know, my insignificant prosaic existence doesn't seem half-bad once I add the pretty pretty words! The diet coke I bought was deliciously effervescent. See what I mean? Nailed it.
I Have News For You
By Tony Hoagland
There are people who do not see a broken playground swing as a symbol of ruined childhood and there are people who don't interpret the behavior of a fly in a motel room as a mocking representation of their thought process. There are people who don't walk past an empty swimming pool and think about past pleasures unrecoverable and then stand there blocking the sidewalk for other pedestrians. I have read about a town somewhere in California where human beings do not send their sinuous feeder roots deep into the potting soil of others' emotional lives as if they were greedy six-year-olds sucking the last half-inch of milkshake up through a noisy straw; and other persons in the Midwest who can kiss without debating the imperialist baggage of heterosexuality. Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon? There are some people, unlike me and you, who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as unattainable as that moon; thus, they do not later have to waste more time defaming the object of their former ardor. Or consequently run and crucify themselves in some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha. I have news for you— there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room and open a window to let the sweet breeze in and let it touch them all over their faces and bodies.
taylor swift in the style of e.e. cummings
i remember when we broke up
the first time
saying, “this is it, i’ve had enough,”
we hadn’t seen each other in a month
I cried in a bookstore today
as reams of writerly ecstasy
infinity pages forever
stories for you and me too
stories that are in fact you and me too
but are mostly importantly our stories; us
burst inside my brain
intangibles get splattered
though suspended upon dense organs
in frustrating impermeability
the sheer number
a think of beauty
i love you
"Nobody cares about poetry except the poets, but the poets don’t know."
— R. Dower
poetic observation of the day
There is a huge difference between noise that is low because it is far away and noise that is low because the volume is low.
In the first case, the noise feels important but irretrievable-makes me feel irrelevant because the people at the concert or whatever are just thinking about the music or sex or drugs but not me.
Faraway noises are the opposite of looking at the moon.
she told me that my lips are her muse
and she wants to recreate the high renaissance on the inside of my mouth
turn my lips into flower petals
and my tongue into fresh water spilling down her back
if you’re not comfortable with removing your halo
just dim it a bit
tonight, we’ll make love like we’re sistine
and when our fingers touch
you’ll truly appreciate the creation of Eve