rising up, you float outside yourself

The clouds are // following each other // Into Eternity

Posts tagged poetry

"Most days
I wish I never
met you so
I would stop
finding pieces
of you in the tangles
you left behind,
in my hair,
these words,
in this bed."

Reblogged from maza-dohta

Pavana पवन (via maza-dohta)

deathofastylist:

soon…

Reblogged from deathofastylist

deathofastylist:

soon…

Walk Slowly

If you should go before me, dear, walk slowly
Down the ways of death, well-worn and wide,
For I would want to overtake you quickly
And seek the journey’s ending by your side.

I would be so forlorn not to descry you
Down some shining highroad when I came;
Walk slowly, dear, and often look behind you
And pause to hear if someone calls your name.

- Adelaide Love

(inspiration for i will follow you into the dark, perhaps?)

A telling analogy for life and death:
Compare the two of them to water and ice.
Water draws together to become ice,
And ice disperses again to become water.
Whatever has died is sure to be born again;
Whatever is born comes round again to dying.
As ice and water do one another no harm,
So life and death, the two of the, are fine.

- Hanshan, Tr. Peter Harris

Water

Pressure of sun on the rockslide
Whirled me in a hop-and-step descent,
Pool of pebbles buzzed in a Juniper shadow,
Tiny tongue of a this-year rattlesnake flicked,
I leaped, laughing for little boulder-color coil—
Pounded by heat raced down slabs to the creek
Deep tumbling under arching walls and stuck
Whole head and shoulders in the water:
Stretched full on cobble—ears roaring
Eyes open aching from the cold and faced a trout.

- Gary Snyder

Thousands

Out of the thousands
who are known,
or who want to be known
as poets,
maybe one or two
are genuine
and the rest are fakes,
hanging around the sacred precincts
trying to look like the real thing.
Needless to say
I am one of the fakes,
and this is my story.

- Leonard Cohen

Kerouac

I can’t answer,
reason i can’t answer
I haven’t been dead yet
Don’t remember dead
I’m on 14th St & 1st Avenue
Vat’s the qvestion?

Allen Ginserg, March 12, 1997

Happiness is like a crystal,
Fair and exquisite and clear,
Broken in a million pieces,
Shattered, scattered far and near.
Now and then along life’s pathway,
Lo! some shining fragments fall;
But there are so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.

You may find a bit of beauty,
Or an honest share of wealth,
While another just beside you
Gathers honor, love or health.
Vain to choose or grasp unduly,
Broken is the perfect ball;
And there are so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.

Yet the wise as on they journey,
Treasure every fragment clear,
Fit them as they may together,
Imaging the shattered sphere,
Learning ever to be thankful,
Though their share of it is small;
For it has so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.

- Priscilla Leonard

Reblogged from filiadeluna

Having a Coke with You (by Frank O’Hara)

Reblogged from les-yeux-tristes

triste-yeux:

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

"‎later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
"

Reblogged from lunaaleche

Warsan Shire  (via small-haunt)

(Source: naturalinfiniteyes)

Reblogged from nap-city

ridrs-onthestorm:

fashinpirate:

Javon Johnson making me cry in approx 30 seconds. 

wow

wow.

(Source: arabellesicardi)