I HEAR IT IN THE DEEP HEART'S CORE

and I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow

Around the bend of a phrase
you return, it’s dawn in a book, it’s
a garden, one can
see everything, the dew, a moth
on a leaf and it’s you
who rises suddenly amid the pages
and the book grows more lovely
because it’s you
and you’ve not grown old, you walk
slowly to the door.

Claude Esteban, “The Bend,” trans. Joanie Mackowski, Poetry (June 2011)

When my time comes around 
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth 
No grave can hold my body down 
I’ll crawl home to her 

(Source: pika4u6a, via dreamingbeyondreality)

4 hours ago - 477

Anonymous said: ..dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings, there midnight's all a glimmer and noon a purple glow and evening full of the linnet's wings

Precisely!

The earth grew dense with grain at my desire;
The shade was deepened at the springs and streams;
Moving in dust that clung like pillared fire,
The gathering herds grew heavy in my dreams.

Yvor Winters, from “John Sutter,” The Collected Poems of Yvor Winters (1960)

fleurdulys:

Self-Portrait - Larisa Kirillova
1974

fleurdulys:

Self-Portrait - Larisa Kirillova

1974


Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket // James Whistler // 19th Century

Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket // James Whistler // 19th Century

(Source: sleepypit, via blood-suga-baby)

I am hoping
to hang your head

on my wall
in shame—

the slightest taxidermy
thrills me.

Kevin Young, from “I am Trying to Break Your Heart,” Dear Darkness (Alfred A. Knopf, 2008)

metaphorformetaphor:

[…] I love the past, the dark of it,
The weight of it teaching us nothing, the loss of it, the all
Of it asking for nothing, 

Mark Strand, from “I Will Love the Twenty-First Century,” New and Selected Poems. (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009)

(via ala-bora)

Bless you as often

as the hours have
been endless to me
while you were gone

Sappho, Fragments of Poetry (46)

(Source: camilla-macauley, via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

it was easier to lock the doors and kill the phones / than to show my skin / because the hardest thing is never to repent for someone else / it’s letting people in

(via autobibliography)

2 days ago - 1485

I want you to know
how it felt to hold it,
deep in the well of my eye.

You, future person: star of one of my
complicated dooms—

Dana Levin, from “Banana Palace,” Poetry (vol. CCIV, no. 5, September 2014)

(Source: apoetreflects, via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

Fathom me—

… I am a known depth. I’m a
Definition easy: a man, a mortal man.

A man with five needles on each hand
Pointing heavenward. Heed me. I’m lost.

Dan Beachy-Quick, “Ishmael, or The Orphan” from Spell. (via literarymiscellany)

(via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

fleurdulys:

Orpheus - Pierre Amedee Marcel-Beronneau

fleurdulys:

Orpheus - Pierre Amedee Marcel-Beronneau

(via bloodybaconians)

  Vengeance is thine, O Lord, and unto us
In a world, wandering, amidst raised spears
Between wild waters, and against barred doors,
There are no weapons left.

A. M. Klein, from “The Elegy,” A.M. Klein: Complete Poems (University of Toronto Press, 1990)

A gust roused the waves,
leaves blew into the water,
the waves were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

It was good for my heart:
there my feelings were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

The breath of wind brought cooler air,
the waves of mourning brought separation:
autumn and autumn
befriend each other.

Juhan Liiv, “Leaves Fell,” trans. H. L. Hix & Jüri Talvet, Poetry (June 2011)