“I didn’t do much for the past few days, but you know what I did do, this morning I saved a caterpillar and put it back in the woods where it belongs. And that put the biggest smile on my face.”
“You know, the thing about caterpillars and transformation is – before you turn into the butterfly, you have to be goo. Literal goo. You have to go into the chrysalis for a while.
And I’m just going to tell myself today, right now you have to be okay with being goo.”
True places never are. – Herman Melville
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? – Mary Oliver
I received a guest poem through my contact form. This is why I love New Yorkers:
Name: like say steve or something
Comment: Around it goes. Falls back again
Always to the same spot. We walk opposite to sides unmet.
Where we meet in between
Still ends don’t meet
I see you there.
We are incomplete.
Where to build a bridge across
From how do I discover.
Maybe if I walk all the way back
Will I find you on the other side again?
Around in circles
Did I miss on the way back?
Well, I guess not completely in circles
For each time I get to the end
You are still on the other side.
From how do I build a bridge to make ends meet?
Around we go, fall back again
Always to the same spot
We walk opposite to sides unmet
I asked Siri the title of your blog, I read like half a poem and wanted to write my own,
20 something new yorker
Dreamers, keep dreaming. We aren’t the hopeless romantics; the world has it wrong. We are the hopeful romantics. Dream on. Live on. Love on.
Slice me open like a renegade You runaway black star
Kiss me quick like a snake
Let your poison dangle over my heavy bones
Tickle me slowly with your feathery gaze Hunt my flesh
Make me hunger for your bloodthirsty Kill
Seething love through my vertebrae Shaking rain make me thunder
For your whole
I’ll take any excuse to love you
So explain to me that the sky isn’t blue
That this pain I’m feeling isn’t real
Tell me that people don’t really have two hands Tell me we’ll live forever
even though I know someday we all have to go
I’ll take any excuse to love you
Any excuse to believe that this might somehow work Tell me that when you paused
when I asked if you thought we’d be together always
That you really meant yes
to be immortal
this cavern of consciousness repeating
dying- life giving,
fell into muddied waters never to return
the human spirit
“I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me, too.
Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you.” – Frida Kahlo
What is it like to be with you when the whole world is asleep?
I’d love to know the taste of your lips at midnight
sweeter than sunrise, softer than sunshine against my windowpane at dusk.
what is it like to kiss your face when the rest of the world closes its eyes?
I’d venture to say it feels like the broadest luck
quite impossible, quite unimagineable, but innumerably
your breath on my tongue
your eyelashes in my dreams but they flutter gently on my face
so real, too true, but quite still so unimagineably similar
to when stars collide.