“Your feet were burning so I put my hands on them, but my hands
were burning too.
You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn’t let you swallow them.
You said Will you love me even more when I'm dead?
and I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand.
Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds.”
―
were burning too.
You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn’t let you swallow them.
You said Will you love me even more when I'm dead?
and I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand.
Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds.”
―
“Life is not a dream. Watch out! Watch out! Watch out!
We fall down stairs and eat the moist earth,
or we climb up to the snow's edge with the choir of dead dahlias.
But there is no oblivion, no dream:
raw flesh. Kisses tie mouths
in a tangle of new veins
and those who are hurt will hurt without rest
and those who are frightened by death will carry it on their shoulders.”
― Poet in New York
We fall down stairs and eat the moist earth,
or we climb up to the snow's edge with the choir of dead dahlias.
But there is no oblivion, no dream:
raw flesh. Kisses tie mouths
in a tangle of new veins
and those who are hurt will hurt without rest
and those who are frightened by death will carry it on their shoulders.”
― Poet in New York
“Nearly every guy I've dated believed they should already be famous, believed that greatness was their destiny and they were already behind schedule. An early moment of intimacy often involved a confession of this sort: a childhood vision, teacher's prophecy, a genius IQ. At first, with my boyfriend in college, I believed it, too. Later, I thought I was just choosing delusional men. Now I understand it's how boys are raised to think, how they are lured into adulthood. I've met ambitious women, driven women, but no woman has ever told me that greatness was her destiny.”
― Writers & Lovers
― Writers & Lovers
“Yesterday I saw God. What did he look like? Well, in the afternoon I climbed up a ladder—he has a cheap cabin in the country, like Monroe, N.Y. the chicken farms in the wood. He was a lonely old man with a white beard.
‘I cooked supper for him. I made him a nice supper—lentil soup, vegetables, bread & butter—miltz—he sat down at the table and ate, he was sad.
‘I told him, Look at all those fightings and killings down there, What’s the matter? Why don’t you put a stop to it?
‘I try, he said—That’s all he could do, he looked tired. He’s a bachelor so long, and he likes lentil soup.”
― KADDISH. For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894-1956. With Two Other Related Poems WHITE SHROUD and BLACK SHROUD. Limited Edition.
‘I cooked supper for him. I made him a nice supper—lentil soup, vegetables, bread & butter—miltz—he sat down at the table and ate, he was sad.
‘I told him, Look at all those fightings and killings down there, What’s the matter? Why don’t you put a stop to it?
‘I try, he said—That’s all he could do, he looked tired. He’s a bachelor so long, and he likes lentil soup.”
― KADDISH. For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894-1956. With Two Other Related Poems WHITE SHROUD and BLACK SHROUD. Limited Edition.
“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.”
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
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