august

“Because you were foolish enough to love one place,
now you are homeless, an orphan
in succession of shelters.”
― Louise Glück, Poems, 1962-2012

“How wonderful to be who I am,
made out of earth and water,
my own thoughts, my own fingerprints -
all that glorious, temporary stuff.”
― Mary Oliver, Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

“Oh yes, In Love,
that demented rose-red circus tent
whose half-light forgives all visuals,
fig-leaves our lovers,
and softens our own brains
and the pain of our sawdust pratfalls.
 
So tempting, that midway faux-marble arch,
both funfair and classical—
so Greek, so Barnum,
such a beacon,
with a sign in gas-blue neon:
 
Love! This way!
In!”
― Margaret Atwood, Dearly

“Mirages, you decide:
everything was never.
Though over your shoulder there it is,
your time laid out like a picnic
in the sun, still glowing,
although it's night.

Don't look behind, they say:
You'll turn to salt.
Why not, though? Why not look?
Isn't it glittery?
Isn't it pretty, back there?”
― Margaret Atwood, Dearly: Poems