I don’t remember how many
nights we swallowed the sky
just to spit it back up by morning,
but I do remember the way the stars burned
when they made their way back up our throats.
And maybe that’s why we could never
say ‘I love you’ at dawn
the way we could say it at midnight."
— Y.Z, Lovers who kiss the moon (via rustyvoices)
Reblog - Posted 3 days ago - via / Source with 517 notes
This Is Just To Say I’m a Zombie

therumpus:

I have eaten      your scrumptious face, through
the plums      of cheeks, juicy recollections
that were in      your hippocampus. Remember Kool-Aid in
the icebox      and how they rubied your lips? Of course you don’t

and which      of us always will is, well, obvious. I’m guessing
you were probably      thinking you were
saving      time by crossing the graveyard to meet your mother
for breakfast      at Marty’s Diner. She’s still waiting.

Forgive me      if I devour her brain too. Those I’ve had already:
they were delicious      and ripe with memories. I was
so sweet      when I was human, way on the shy side,
and so cold       to adventure. Look at me now: ravenous for experience.

-David Hernandez

Reblog - Posted 2 weeks ago - via / Source with 643 notes
The universe is my obsession:
the sea and the sun are
forever mating."
— "An Alley of Linden Trees, and Lighting…" in To look at the sea is to become what one is by Etel Adnan, reviewed by Patrick James Dunagan
Reblog - Posted 3 weeks ago - via / Source with 148 notes

Let us read our stars and
discredit them. Sit beside me
here. Write me letters.



Let us neither one go first.

"
— From “Termini,” a poem in A Table That Goes On For Miles by Stefania Heim, reviewed by Sean Singer at The Rumpus.
Reblog - Posted 3 weeks ago - via / Source with 101 notes
Will I be something?
Am I something?

And the answer comes:
You already are.
You always were.
And you still have time to be."
— Anis Mojgani   (via heartfullofsoul)
I read on a slip of paper at dinner tonight that
You must empty yourself before God may enter
so I emptied myself and found
the bottom of a lake bed
caked with sticky mud
next to a sign that said
do not swim."
— "After Another Execution" in There, There by George Higgins, reviewed by Heather Dobbins
Reblog - Posted 1 month ago - via / Source with 176 notes
By writing into what you don’t know, you allow your poem to invite readers who have followed you to discover new regions of their own minds and feelings, as well. Both you and the reader “rise” and “stagger(s) out” of the peony and come to understand that the unknown realms of imagination are filled with the abundance of wildness and calm, wilderness and home. The unknown realms of imagination are filled with alluring, invisible desires and strange dwellings."
Reblog - Posted 2 months ago - via / Source with 79 notes
The hours between 12am and 6am
have a funny habit of making you feel
like you’re either on top of the world,
or under it."
— Beau Taplin || the hours between.   (via exoticwild)
This truth is prevalent:

what two colors have always been together? Thirty unplanned crayon drawings of sky and grass on classroom walls. There can be

no human without earth, nor love without language."
— From “Six Graders Discuss Poetry,” from In The Low Houses by Heather Dobbins, reviewed at the Rumpus by Caitlin MacKenzie.
Reblog - Posted 4 months ago - via / Source with 131 notes