woe
to the lover who,
competes with her
beloved’s mirror
Gibberish.
Not Cuban. Not a boy.
We see mansions painted and whitewashed with ornamented doors.
They were constructed to give pleasure to the heart,
and through love and regard for worldly things, but they shall fall to ruin.
So the body which is empty within and possesseth no love, shall fall and become a heap of dust.
O my brethren, your bodies and wealth shall not accompany you
Fragment
Who would have heard of a pheonix,
if it hadn’t fell?
LX factory, Lisboa
“Bran our Ravens idea of having fun this morning, he holds on just enough to keep hold without hurting me.”
Video/caption by Lloyd & Rose Buck Bird Specialists & Handlers
(Source: lloydbuck.co.uk, via malikyee)
Poetry Riot Prompt (Week One Hundred Ninety-Four) 16 - 22 July
This week’s prompt is:
what we hear when we eavesdrop
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(via poetryriot)
“a writer has to be a foreigner in the questions he is dealing with, and if he knows his material well, he will write in such a way that nobody will understand him”
– Varlam Shalamov: Forty-Five Things I Learned in the Gulag
A question arising from reading ancient Chinese poetry
If it were up to beauty, then
the ocean would be born
from rivers and
the earth would hold up skies.
The seasons would change upon
the breaking of hearts or
the births of swans.
Who is enough of
a poet to
believe in such things?
Your locks didn’t appear in any lockets
as far as I’m aware
and your smile is twisted like clock
showing quarter to two.
“Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone’s sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too.”
– A Scanner Darkly, Phillip K Dick
Poetry Riot Prompt (Week One Hundred Eighty) 9 - 15 April
This week’s prompt is:
letter of intent
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(via poetryriot)
“It was a period of a kind of vacuum for us, and nobody knew what to believe”
– Shuntaro Tanikawa
Poetry Riot Prompt (Week One Hundred Seventy-Six) March 12 - 18
This week’s prompt is:
everything green
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Poets turn back
Those sounds you name,
they won’t save you,
they won’t elate you,
they cannot describe your dreams.
Nobody ever made anything with words.
The words are false.
The sounds are false.
The simulacrum is true
