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A Poem A Day: Thomas O'Bedlam Among the Sunflowers

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:31:02 +0200

A Poem A Day: Thomas O'Bedlam Among the Sunflowers:

by Thomas James

To have gold in your back yard and not know it…
I woke this morning before your dream had shredded
And found a curious thing: flowers made of gold,

Six-sided—more than that—broken on flagstones,
Petals the color of a wedding band.
You are sleeping. The morning comes up gold.

Perhaps I made those flowers in my head,
For I have counted snowflakes in July
Blowing across my eyes like bits of calcium,

And I have stepped into your dream at night,
A stranger there, my body steeped in moonlight.
I watched you tremble, washed in all that silver.

Love, the stars have fallen into the garden
And turned to frost. They have opened like a hand.
It is the color that breaks out of the bedsheets.

This morning the garden is littered with dry petals
As yellow as the page of an old book.
I step among them. They are brittle as bone china

"Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:29:26 +0200

“Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is Odessa. London is a teenager, an urchin, and, in this, hasn’t changed since the time of Dickens. Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.”

- John Berger (via inmilkwood)

"I walked up the door, shut the stairs, said my shoes, took off my prayers, turned off my bed, got..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:28:00 +0200

“I walked up the door,
shut the stairs,
said my shoes,
took off my prayers,
turned off my bed,
got into the light,
all because
you kissed me goodnight.”

- Natalie Dorsch, “Just Because” (via inmilkwood)

"We sat there for 12 minutes, on the noisy rocker chairs; without muttering a word, listening to the..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:26:49 +0200

“We sat there for 12 minutes, on the noisy rocker chairs; without muttering a word, listening to the vague humming of raindrops and sea waves. I asked her which one she preferred; the rain or the sea. She told me that the sea and the rain give birth to each other and that’s what makes them equally beautiful so she loves them both.”

- M. Melia, An Aureate Aubade (via seabois)

"Sometimes when you meet someone, there’s a click. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:26:27 +0200

“Sometimes when you meet someone, there’s a click. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I believe in that click. Recognition.”

- Ann Aguirre (via vvolare)

"A flower left out. My bones hold a stillness, the far Fields melt my heart. They threaten To let me..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:25:21 +0200

“A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.”

- Sylvia Plath, excerpt from Sheep in Fog (via seabois)

"Describe your perfect cup of coffee,” she said. I thought she was kidding but she wasn’t. I thought..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:24:26 +0200

“Describe your perfect cup of coffee,” she said. I thought she was kidding but she wasn’t. I thought about it a while and then the writer in me, Mr. Word Expert, tried to verbalize it. When I was finished and had failed miserably she said, “It only gets worse when you go into it further. Try to describe what you think is the perfect cup of coffee, or the perfect girlfriend, meal, dog, car… whatever. You can only recognize perfection when you see it, but you can’t describe it even if it’s sitting right in front of you. Trying to find the right vocabulary to describe the qualities of something perfect is like trying to hold water between your fingers.”

- Jonathan Carroll (via shesinacoma)

"Bubble gum angels swooped from top margins or scraped their wings between teeming paragraphs,..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:23:31 +0200

“Bubble gum angels swooped from top margins or scraped their wings between teeming paragraphs, maidens with golden hair dripped sea blue tears into the books spine, grape-colored whales spouted blood around a newspaper item (pasted in) listing arrivals to the endangered species list. Six hatchlings cried from shattered shells near an entry made on Easter. Cecilia had filled the pages with a profusion of colors and curlicues, candyland ladders and striped shamrocks.”

- Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides (via seabois)

vvolare: “The Event of a Thread” is a large scale interactive...

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:20:35 +0200

vvolare:

“The Event of a Thread” is a large scale interactive swing installation by Ann Hamilton

I can remember the feeling of swinging—how hard we would work for those split seconds, flung at furthest extension, just before the inevitable downward and backward pull, when we felt momentarily free of gravity, a little hiccup of suspension when our hands loosened on the chain and our torsos raised off the seat. We were sailing, so inside the motion—time stopped—and then suddenly rushed again toward us. We would line up on the playground and try to touch the sky, alone together.

"(In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:20:25 +0200

“

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

”

- Mary Oliver, “The Uses of Sorrow” (via tat-art)

hypocrite-lecteur: “The philosopher must say is. The world is legion. The self is a suffering...

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:18:56 +0200

hypocrite-lecteur:

“The philosopher must say is.

The world is legion.

The self is a suffering form.

Is is.

Waves rise and fall, but the sea remains.”

Srikanth Reddy, from “Voyager”

"I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and knows that love is as strong as death,..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:18:40 +0200

“I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and knows that love is as strong as death, and be on my side forever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me.”

- Jeanette Winterson, Oranges are Not the Only Fruit (via inmilkwood)

"My melancholy is the most faithful sweetheart I have had."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:17:15 +0200

““My melancholy is the most faithful sweetheart I have had.””

- Søren Kierkegaard (via numb-hands)

"I bought plum blossoms more for the name than for the color; I buy lipstick that way, too. In other..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:16:27 +0200

“I bought plum blossoms
more for the name
than for the color;
I buy lipstick that way, too.
In other words,
if it sounds like a poem,
I’ll take it.”

- Dorothea Grossman, “Untitled” (via ethereally)

hypocrite-lecteur: “A world is a world is a world. His sense of the line limits his career to the...

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:15:39 +0200

hypocrite-lecteur:

“A world is a world is a world.

His sense of the line limits his career to the criticism of reason.”

Srikanth Reddy, from “Voyager”

pikeys: La Chute (Fall), 2004 by Manuem Alves Pereira

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:15:25 +0200

pikeys:

La Chute (Fall), 2004 by Manuem Alves Pereira

biscodeja-vu: Tom Beddard

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:14:59 +0200

biscodeja-vu:

Tom Beddard

hypocrite-lecteur: “It was difficult to see the falsehood of language. Stop. Now begin.” Srikanth...

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:14:36 +0200

hypocrite-lecteur:

“It was difficult to see the falsehood of language.

Stop.

Now begin.”

Srikanth Reddy, from “Voyager”

"I’d woken up early and I took a long time getting ready to exist."

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:13:54 +0200

““I’d woken up early and I took a long time getting ready to exist.””

- Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via pattiocleavis)

Six word story, 24

Tue, 21 May 2013 03:12:57 +0200

“My heart never belonged to you.”