Viktor Shklovsky
January 26, 2016, 6:15 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: ,

So I write another letter.

I love you very much. You are the city I live in; you are the name of the month and the day. I float, salty and heavy with tears, barely keeping my head above water. I seem to be sinking, but even there, underwater-where the phone doesn’t ring and rumors don’t reach, where it is impossible to meet you-I will go on loving you.

I love you, yet you force me to hang onto the running boards of your life. My hands are freezing. I’m not jealous of people: I’m jealous of your time. It is impossible not to see you.

So what can I do when there is no substitute for love? You know nothing about the weight of all things.

–  Zoo, or Letters Not About Love



Practical Magic
January 24, 2016, 8:12 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: ,

“On some nights it’s best to stop thinking about the past, and all that’s been won and lost. On nights like this, just getting into bed, crawling between the clean white sheets, is a great relief.”

-Alice Hoffman



Hold it Down -Gina Myers
January 19, 2016, 12:40 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

It’s 70 degrees outside but in the drugstore
Christmas music plays over the speakers as
I stand in line balancing my checkbook
in my head, stretching things thin until
my next paycheck when the rent is due.
The security guard cracks a joke, but
I wasn’t paying attention, so I just smile
& step forward in line. Images move
across the screen. When I think about money
it seems impossible. All over the country
people are moving into the streets
& we’re here in Atlanta starting a new life.
Darkness surrounds the latest revision
of our shared history. Everything clouded.
Yesterday 1 couldn’t tear myself from the news
& already today the events have been distorted,
the numbers downplayed. It’s late fall
& in the early morning crispness, the leaves
fall from the trees & cover the sidewalks.
This new feeling we lack a name for, struggle
manifested in the streets & in parks & on bridges
across the nation. The headlines read
“Protesters clash with police,” but as we watched
the live stream, we saw aggression only by officers
dressed in riot gear. We saw people tossed
on the ground, hit with batons,
a woman punched in the face, an eighty-four year old
woman’s face drenched in pepper spray.
The images endless in this land of the free.
I’m losing focus, distracted by the newsfeed
on the computer screen, hitting refresh.
The cat paws at my leg, demands its own attention.
This shift entirely unexpected but necessary.
Leaves blot the window. Every so often
I leave & start from scratch, imagine
damaged relationships & sick cities
where there was no damage & no sickness
greater than anywhere else. In Atlanta,
everyone drives. The bartender called us
“hardcore” when we said we’d walked there.
She said, “No one in Atlanta walks anywhere.”
Walking home from work in post-daylight
savings time darkness I pass no one on the
sidewalks. I pass the traffic backed up by
the stoplight. The weekend passes too quickly—
I wish it would last longer, which is what this all
is really about: time & my lack of control
over it, my inability to do what I want with it.
And there’s a greater futility at work
here too—a greater frustration in my inability
to control my environment or to stop my country
from killing its citizens. The police beat people
standing still, linking arms, holding cardboard signs.
Each day I think more & more about the past,
about where things began to go wrong, where I, too,
began to go wrong. Before I moved, before I
got sick, before I unfriended you on Facebook,
before I decided I no longer loved you,
before New York, before college—thinking back
to childhood when we could run fearless
through the neighborhood at night, when
we didn’t think about the future, when we loved
our country because we didn’t know better.



❤️
January 11, 2016, 8:11 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: ,

“I still look at the moon” 



Summer -Robin Coste Lewis
January 8, 2016, 12:58 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

Last summer, two discrete young snakes left their skin
on my small porch, two mornings in a row. Being

 

postmodern now, I pretended as if I did not see
them, nor understand what I knew to be circling

 

inside me. Instead, every hour I told my son
to stop with his incessant back-chat. I peeled

 

a banana. And cursed God—His arrogance,
His gall—to still expect our devotion

 

after creating love. And mosquitoes. I showed
my son the papery dead skins so he could

 

know, too, what it feels like when something shows up
at your door—twice—telling you what you already know.


tori amos
January 1, 2016, 2:01 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

  



A Love Letter from a Toothbrush to a Bicycle Tire -Sarah Kay
December 26, 2015, 8:19 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

They told me that I was meant for the cleaner life, that you would drag me through the mud. They said that you would tread all over me, that they could see right through you, that you were full of hot air, that I would always be chasing, always watching you disappear after sleeker models, that it would be a vicious cycle.

But I know better. I know about your rough edges and I have seen your perfect curves, and I will fit into any spaces you let me. If loving you means getting dirty, bring on the grime, I will leave this porcelain home behind. I’m used to twice a day relationships, but with you, I’ll take all the time. And I know, we live in different world and we’re always really busy.

But in my dreams, you spin around me so fast I always wake up dizzy. So maybe one day you’ll grow tired of the road and roll on back to me. And when I blink my eyes into the morning, your smile will be the only thing I see.




Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 128 other followers