“You grew up, you were struck by lightning. When you opened your eyes, you were wired forever to your true love. It only happened once.”— Louise Glück, from The Complete Poems of L. G.: 1962-2012; “Prism,”
(via heartcountry)
“I will always lean my heart as close to your soul as I can.”— Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz, tr. by Daniel Ladinsky, from “The Woman I Love,”
(via heartcountry)
Look, you who never
asked for this: it’s the bearing
that hurts. Not the losing. It’s the carrying
on.— Devin Kelly, from “My Mother, the Day She Knows the Ones Who Died in the Shooting,” published in Foundry
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(via hirxeth)
Last night I took a walk between fields and forests and found nothing but poems.
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“And even now in the gathering dark of a late afternoon in December, of one more year stretching between us, I think of you. I remember.”— Tom Hansen, from “December Monologue,” Rattle #24 (Winter 2005)
(via heartcountry)
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(via hirxeth)
What I mean is—when I see your face
in the dusk I understand the desire of the rain. Each time
you happen to me all over again:Aleda Shirley, from “A Dwelling in the Evening Air,” Long Distance: Poems (Miami University Press, 1996)
(via warminglight)
It’s okay to wave good-bye to yourself in the mirror.
To write, I don’t want anything.
It’s okay to despise what you have inherited,
to feel dead in a city of pulses. It’s okay
to be the whale that never comes up for air,
to love best the taste of your own blood.— Rachel Mckibbens, from “Letter From My Heart To My Brain”
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