switchingstars
Tessa’s Mess
What a tragic thing, to be young and alive|Leo sun| |Sagittarius moon|
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The Letter, by Amy Lowell
Little cramped words scrawling all over the paper
Like draggled fly's legs,
What can you tell of the flaring moon
Through the oak leaves?
Or of my uncertain window and the bare floor
Spattered with moonlight?
Your silly quirks and twists have nothing in them
Of blossoming hawthorns,
And this paper is dull, crisp, smooth, virgin of loveliness
Beneath my hand.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire
Of the great moon.
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Poem: Space Machine
Starry-eyed space machine, I’ve seen
You launch rockets right from your heart,
Sending them like fireworks into the dark.
I’ve watched your midnight eyes,
With their sparkles inside, mesmerize
A room like a full moon on a clear night.
Movie screen space machine, you have
An otherworldly opal sheen, yet you live for
Little things like old movies and worn blue jeans.
j.p
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My grandfather always said that living is like licking honey off a thorn.
Louis Adamic (via coral)
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O You,
Who came upon me once
Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing,
Why did you not strangle me before speaking
Rather than fill me with the wild white honey of your words
And then leave me to the mercy
Of the forest bees.
Amy Lowell, Carrefour (via liquidlightandrunningtrees)
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Poem: Fish Tank
A Haiku
Let’s watch the world like
We’ve nothing better to do
Than drown in our peace.
j.p
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