February 2012
24 posts
3 tags
“On an unseasonably warm November night in Manhattan on our way to get ice cream, we stumbled upon what appeared to be a vintage shop, brightly lit display window and all. As we began to walk in, a man sitting out front warned us that we were welcome to explore, but nothing inside was for sale. Our interests piqued, we began to browse through the collections the man out front had built...
1 tag
When your grandfather came home from the war He kept all his best knives in the cupboard above the fridge This is how he forgot what danger looked like But this is how you learned to keep the things you loved the most Just out of reach
1 tag
Quake.
If you were to ask me Whether or not I would prevent this earthquake The answer, unquestionably, would be no What would this earth look like Without the shifting of tectonic plates Without the height of mountains and the depth of oceans Without the aftershocks of fingertips Without tremors behind kneecaps Could you even imagine A world that doesn’t remind us Every now and then That everything...
1 tag
download the project 'warsan versus melancholy'... →
warsanshire:
- proceeds go to famine relief.
it’s almost unbearable, but in the best way imaginable.
1 tag
Freewrite 02.13.12
The minute we shook hands The universe put us in its palm And began moving us From left, to right Alpha to omega Start to end Slowly Like the way I picture you Reading the newspaper on Sunday Planting yourself down on the couch Stretching your tree trunk limbs out with a groan I am but heavy rain in this forest where your roots run deep But still, the universe moves us along Deliberately Like the...
1 tag
chaiivee:
sometimes i want you so badly i forget myself at the bottom of the basket of laundry; like last week’s newspaper no longer interesting, just true, the sort of honesty only impressive when it first occurs, now old like chipotle for the sixth time in one week— because the most delicious things leave bad tastes in large doses; but you’ll never let that be the issue between...
3 tags
1 tag
Describe me, I said
And you called me a revolution Not “revolutionary” But the noun itself Was it my gunpowder nail polish That betrayed the grenade in my rib cage Or did you smell it in my hair There’s lipstick propaganda on your collar now Wear it proudly, comrade Revolutions often only happen in one night