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hayden r

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth

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Where did you go, my dear, my day;
Where, oh where, did you go?
To market, to maker of market, to say
Too much of the little I know.

Where did you go, my dear, my year;
Why did you flee from me?
I went from here to there to here
Loitering breathlessly.

Where did you go, my life, my own,
Decades gone in a wink?
Some things are better left unknown
Some thoughts too thick to think.

David Berman

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“I am not looking to escape my darkness. I am learning to love myself there.” — Rune Lazuli

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It had been four days of no weatheras if nature had conceded its genius to the indoors.They'd closed down the Bureau of Sad Endingsand my wife sat on the couch and read the paper out loud.The evening edition carried the magic death of a childbacklit by a construction site sunrise on its front page.I kept my back to her and fingered the items on the mantle.Souvenirs only reminded you of buying them.* * *The moon hung solid over the boarded-up Hobby Shop.P.K. was in the precinct house, using his one phone callto dedicate a song to Tammy, for she was the lightby which he traveled into this and thatAnd out in the city, out in the wide readership,his younger brother was kicking an ice bucketin the woods behind the Marriott,his younger brother who was missing that part of the brainthat allows you to make out with your pillow.Poor kid.It was the light in things that made them last.Tammy called her caseworker from a closed gas stationto relay ideas unaligned with the world we loved.The tall grass bent in the wind like tachometer needlesand he told her to hang in there, slowly repeatingthe number of the Job Info Line.She hung up and glared at the Killbuck Sweet Shoppe.The words that had been running through her head,"employees must wash hands before returning to work,"kept repeating and the sky looked dead Hedges formed the long limousine a Tampa sky could die behind.A sailor stood on the wharf with a clipper shipreflected on the skin of the bell pepper he held.He'd had mouthwash at the inn and could still feelthe ice blue carbon pinwheels spinning in his mouth.There were no new ways to understand the world,only new days to set our understandings against.Through the lanes came virgins in tennis shoes,their hair shining like videotape,singing us into a kind of sleep we hadn't tried yet.Each page was a new chance to understand the last.And somehow the sea was always there to make you feel stupid.-David Berman

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It had been four days of no weatheras if nature had conceded its genius to the indoors.They'd closed down the Bureau of Sad Endingsand my wife sat on the couch and read the paper out loud.The evening edition carried the magic death of a childbacklit by a construction site sunrise on its front page.I kept my back to her and fingered the items on the mantle.Souvenirs only reminded you of buying them.* * *The moon hung solid over the boarded-up Hobby Shop.P.K. was in the precinct house, using his one phone callto dedicate a song to Tammy, for she was the lightby which he traveled into this and thatAnd out in the city, out in the wide readership,his younger brother was kicking an ice bucketin the woods behind the Marriott,his younger brother who was missing that part of the brainthat allows you to make out with your pillow.Poor kid.It was the light in things that made them last.Tammy called her caseworker from a closed gas stationto relay ideas unaligned with the world we loved.The tall grass bent in the wind like tachometer needlesand he told her to hang in there, slowly repeatingthe number of the Job Info Line.She hung up and glared at the Killbuck Sweet Shoppe.The words that had been running through her head,"employees must wash hands before returning to work,"kept repeating and the sky looked dead Hedges formed the long limousine a Tampa sky could die behind.A sailor stood on the wharf with a clipper shipreflected on the skin of the bell pepper he held.He'd had mouthwash at the inn and could still feelthe ice blue carbon pinwheels spinning in his mouth.There were no new ways to understand the world,only new days to set our understandings against.Through the lanes came virgins in tennis shoes,their hair shining like videotape,singing us into a kind of sleep we hadn't tried yet.Each page was a new chance to understand the last.And somehow the sea was always there to make you feel stupid.-David Berman

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It begins as a noise in the background keeping steady beat as it makes its round it can be found at any time of day it's so simple, just push play

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It begins as a noise in the background keeping steady beat as it makes its round it can be found at any time of day it's so simple, just push play

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If but for the span of a moment I swam in the aura of flame;

I caught the rapt secret of being clothed by the Ineffable Name.

And chastened with wonder and strengthened to meet life's beleaguering ills

I went, like a bondman unfettered, adown from the heart of the hills.

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‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’

– John Keats

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I came from the sunny valleys

And sought for the open sea,

For I thought in its gray expanses

My peace would come to me.

I came at last to the ocean

And found it wild and black,

And I cried to the windless valleys,

"Be kind and take me back!"

But the thirsty tide ran inland,

And the salt waves drank of me,

And I who was fresh as the rainfall

Am bitter as the sea.

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Kayla

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Kayla

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richard bre

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richard brendlinger

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Dylan Thomas:Do not go gentle into that good night

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Dylan Thomas:Do not go gentle into that good night

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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

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There is a girl who sits in the corner.
Her heart is crying out.
There are people all around her,
But no one seems to hear her shout.

No one will ever understand this urge.
It's something she can't explain.
She feels shame for the scars on her body
But always ends up doing it again.