Yes, I’m done posting poetry here. I will leave you on a wonderful note:
I got in to Mars Hill Graduate School!!!! WOO HOO!!!
11 months ago
who you are is who you are is not what you do
“I’m nothing.
I’ll always be nothing.
I can’t want to be something.
But I have in me all the dreams of the world.”
-Fernando Pessoa, The Tobacco Shop
then then then
you are all the dreams of the world
if you have nothing inside you
then well then
you are nothing
and i
know no one with nothing inside
i know those with blood though
a bloody mess shrapnel inside though
are they the blood of the world
or perhaps
perhaps i know a rose
that is all the dreams of the world
that is a white linen with which to mop blood
that fits warm inside you and
then, then, then,
you are what you are
you and that rose are you
(also in response to Goddog by Jenifer Hartsfield)
1 year ago
“Some mistakes, given time, don’t seem mistakes—
I’m counting on that; others, though perhaps
a little bit still worth being sorry for,
lose force,
we forget them mostly, or we say we have and,
almost, we surprise
ourselves, even—we mean
what we say: “it’s cold here. It’s dark. Follow me.”
I’m counting on that; others, though perhaps
a little bit still worth being sorry for,
lose force,
we forget them mostly, or we say we have and,
almost, we surprise
ourselves, even—we mean
what we say: “it’s cold here. It’s dark. Follow me.”
—
Riding West, by Carl Phillips.
This is kind of the theme of my senior thesis, and of the book I’m reading by Dan Allender, Leading With A Limp
1 year agoLife with a dog is easier to do
Sorry I haven’t updated in a while. Stressful life. But I’m coping by listening to Christmas music and cuddling with my new dog. Speaking of which, I got a new dog. His name is Orion and he is officially one of my heroes.
part v. of forgiveness
v.
patty griffin descended
on a cloud of her own
brown curly hair
singing promises of florida
that the old people would
still be there when i got back
so i wrote a memoir for her
about the women raped
and bled all over the
slave castle in elmina
patty offered me forgiveness at a time when i wouldn’t take
it from god so i didn’t capitalize his name
and she lay me down in a bed of brown curly hair,
told me it’s hard to get, hard to give,
she stuck her fingers up my nasal cavity
passed the burning undying sensation
plucked my tonsils and vocal cords
from the brain where they’d fallen
relocated them, blessed the air,
and told me
i had nothing
to confess
“The only travelled sea that I still dream of
Is the cold black pond where once,
On a fragrant evening, fraught with sadness,
I launched a boat frail as a butterfly.”
Is the cold black pond where once,
On a fragrant evening, fraught with sadness,
I launched a boat frail as a butterfly.”
— Ted Berrigan, The Drunken Boat, A Homage to Arthur Rimbaud 1 year ago
