Memory

by Margaret Atwood

Memory is not in the head only. It’s midnight, you existed once, you exist again, my entire skin sensitive as an eye, imprint of you glowing against me, burnt-out match in a dark room.

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell

by Marty McConnell

leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. you had to have him. and you did. and now you pull down the bridge between your houses. you make him call before he visits. you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. don’t lose too much weight. stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. and you are not stupid. you loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. heart like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas. heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.

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i will never shut up about this poem

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rainlyn

5 months ago

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rainlyn

6 months ago

missed time by Ha Jin

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realrealreal

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rainlyn

7 months ago

I don’t want to be the owner of your fantasy, I just want to be a part of your family

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im so normal about this song (ive played it at least 500 times)

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rainlyn

7 months ago

"Friends dont look at friends that way" COWARD. I look at my friends with awe in my eyes, my chest is filled with love, im glowing because i get to be near my friends. I look at my friends and i would give them my everything. SO SKILL ISSUE, look at your friends with all the love that you have

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yes

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rainlyn

6 months ago

Witness

Crystal Wilkinson

I’m convinced that if you could
have seen my grandmother
standing in the doorway
waiting for him to come home from the fields,
if you’d smelled that spectacular evening thick
with sweat & felt the pulsing of the stars, if
you’d borne witness
to the animals’ moans echoing in the holler
that night, if you just could have seen the
hair rise up
on granddaddy’s arm like that, like
offerings to god, when his elbow touched
hers, if you could have seen
her longing dissipate just a little as he came
through the door smelling like a day’s work, you
should have seen them close enough to breathe
the same air while not even touching.
(He smiled at her without smiling.) If you could
have seen them watching me watch them, then
you’d know how much i love you. If you could
have heard her say, You want some supper?
We got pie.

witness by Crystal Wilkinson

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the beauty in mundaneness!!!!!!

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rainlyn

7 months ago

Everything this year gave me it took back
quicker—lovers, money, reckless smiles
of restless friends. According to the awful math
of planets, summer’s next. I brace for autumn
to come for it the way I used to collect you
drunk at a bar. If a season wants to stay—
to linger past enunciation like you were given to
so oft en—why stop it? What will October make
of its belligerence? Superheroes begging parents
to let them outside without jackets, you and I sweating
clean from the past? August is still here but you’re not
so this time I paddle out alone, rowing the rare thing
easier without you. By sundown the water is warmer
than the air breezing over it. It radiates like a man
next to me in bed and I stretch my arms across it
out of instinct. The ranger’s truck in a far fi eld
cranking doo-wop because he thinks he’s alone.
I stroke slow to the backbeat, harmonies splitting
and rejoining as they’re carried to me over the water.
If they were birds we’d call that murmuration, fi sh
we’d call it schooling. If they were you, I’d know
that what we call the bad year has fi nally let go.

sneaking onto the reservoir again by Robert Wood Lynn

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if they were birds we'd call that mumuration????? FISH WE'D CALL IT SCHOOLING?????? IF?? THEY WERE YOU???? I'D KNOW THAT WHAT WE CALL THE BAD YEAR HAS FINALLY???? LET GO???????????

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