ashes to ashes, back to black

Wake
Never seen my blinds look so blue.
Their noiselessness has a kiss for me
on a hot Saturday morning. New day.

Where are my clothes?
There, by the sleeping piano,
gathering dust like I gathered big leaves

on a slow Spring evening,
back when I had smaller bones
and I didn’t speak so loudly.

‘I have fallen a long way.’
Why are you here?
Just when I thought I was doing alright

on my own…
I sink into this mattress as a diving anchor,
falling far from the tree. Happy. Ah.

I want to stay here, in the humming twilight,
in the unblinking eye of you and me.
There are gravestones named after this,

little people who dream of it.
A bird stirs and then settles.
This time I am happy not to fly.

2012-04-19

typeless:

250 men and women were asked to draw what these emotions felt like in their bodies. These are the combined results

Source: typeless

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Put your lips here,
tell me there is music in my blood
then tell me there is more in my light,
hang me chandelier from the last night
I believed this life had to hurt so much,
I am done kneeling in the church of steepled smokestacks,
done stargazing my own traincrash.
Give me windsprint.
Tell me my fingertips are the shape of ripples on a frozen lake,
tell me my coal mind will never collapse on my heart,
I’ll tell you, these poems, they are my birthmarks,
and I came this close to having them removed once,
even kept that voicebox cutter hidden in my shoe the day her flight took off
but the runway, it’s made of marble,
made of windmill, made of gush, made of salt,
and there is a sea of hopechest in every word I speak,
praying to be open by the night
with its belly full of anchors,
full of yield, pull the shield from my wingspan,
teach me how the candlewax says thankyou to the flame,
tell me how your mother says your name
like an orchard going bloom,
a doctor once said I feel too much
and I said so does God,
that’s why you can see the grand canyon from the moon

— my favourite bit of jellyfish by andrea gibson

2012-04-18

Jellyfish, Andrea Gibson

‘a doctor once told me i feel too much and i said so does god, that’s why you can see the grand canyon from the moon’

my favourite poem

2012-04-14

Heavy Love
Saw the moon with you in mind
and watched the way it sighed: no,
it is not sad, it was a breath of nightish love

and I caught it in both hands. Diamonds
lay there as idle as sleeping kids who dream of this,
us, you, me, we

are more than a one-night kiss,
and these pearls that sit in my palms
are nothing on us, you, me, we

are like the sea
in that we come and go, come and go,
lazy waves smother my tired old feet

and then retreat:
the words I speak wander to your heart
and knock at the door, my hand on your chest,

and it’s always this terrible nighttime
in which I can never love you enough,
you are oxygen but red as blood,

the cool night air, the August rain,
the space in between the bedsheets,
the space in between us, you and me, we

are falling in the midnight hour,
stood in kitchens, sat in cars
where I could die quietly with you in mind.

2012-04-09

THE WARRIOR AND THE FARMER
Clock strikes 4am
and the sea turns in its sleep
like there’s something on its mind.

LOVE: a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person
I want to take you away to Egypt
and tell you how I l o v e everything about you.
Here I see fields of concrete,
and each person I see has their soul elsewhere,
their eyes two lost birds flying anywhere but here.
I dream about you a lot
and in all of them you’re holding my hand
and I think about the whiteness of your skin,
the whiteness of the sheets, the bed in Egypt
with your name on it, our name on it.
I’ve been falling for a long time and now,
now it’s like oh, you’re here, you’re there
and I can’t take my eyes off of you.
The night I rested my hands on your shoulders
I wanted to let you know that I want it too,
I want it and you are just like birdsong in sunlight.

HATE: to dislike intensely or passionately
Sometimes I read your name and want to vomit.
Not in the offensive way, just that I need you out
like a rat infestation or a dead smell.
The coffins in your vowels are so empty they cry out
for attention, wanting to be fed all the happy ones
that I see so rarely on days away from you.
Winter is the only season you walk in,
and this one was no exception: I saw blood
smeared on the wilting trees, I saw your name
written in the blackening clouds, I saw you
at the bottom of our fields, crying your lungs to death
with your hand outstretched to my front door.
Sometimes I read your name
and see how the letters fall so dumbly,
paralysed in the air like a picture. Our photo
is one of times that have gone, and I am the one that left.

Clock strikes 6am
and I don’t hate anymore,
and I’m on a beach, I’m holding your hand, you are it.

2012-04-08

The entire world seems to want to leave. Everywhere I’ve ever been, when you ask what’s cool there, the response is, ‘Nothing; this place sucks. I can’t wait to get out.’ But, if everywhere sucks, where are you going, and why? I feel like a lot of people around here are without goals. They don’t know where they want to go or what they want to know. They just know they don’t want to be here, and they don’t want to do this. It’s a pointless cycle. I’ve grown up in this town my whole life. I watched a lot of people die here. I mean, they’re still technically alive, but they’re practically dead. They don’t have anything that they want to be anymore. A lot of people hate a lot of places, but it’s not enough to just run away from them. You need to figure out what you love and what you don’t, and place yourself in this world according to that, or you’re going to end up miserable no matter what city you’re in.

— Dan “Soupy” Campbell (via wolfhand)

(via wolfhand)

Source: letmebeyourcheshirecat

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i took my love and i took it down,
i climbed a mountain and i turned around,
and i saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
where the landslide brought me down

oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
can the child within my heart rise above?
can i sail through the changing ocean tides,
can i handle the seasons of my life?

mmm, i don’t know

well, i’ve been afraid of changing
‘cause i built my life around you,
but time makes you bolder,
children get older and i’m getting older too

so take my love, take it down,
climb a mountain and turn around
and if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,
well, the landslide will bring you down

and if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,
well, maybe the landslide will bring it down,
oh, oh, the landslide will bring it down