speak soon, say lucky.

fight off the lethargy! don't go quietly!
28th May

(Source: neuewave, via shh-utlow)

Tommy Gabel - Black Me Out

anraphet:

i appreciate whoever made this

anraphet:

i appreciate whoever made this

(Source: , via unlearn-me)

26th May
slantedshanty:

Robert Grenier: Sentences Towards Birds
High-res →

slantedshanty:

Robert Grenier: Sentences Towards Birds

(via poetrysociety)

poetrysociety:

As Auden observed of Yeats: “You were silly like us; your gift survived it all.”

s.s.e.b.: napowrimo #9: delilah

sarahburgoyne:

Hair like matted hives in a lion’s mane, his god had such ways
of setting men apart. So mammoth a man
slept on a herds-worth of sheepskin,
only then his face calm, washed in moonlight,
eyebrows thick as my fingers on his brow, lips
his only softness.
Who would befriend a man
who could…

25th May
poetrysociety:

The Poem, by George Oppen, born today in 1908, image via

poetrysociety:

The Poem, by George Oppen, born today in 1908, image via

poetrysociety:

The Day the Audience Walked Out on Me, and Why.
Denise Levertov, May 8th, 1970

Words created by Poe

anticipatedstranger:

According to the OED, other words Poe added to the English language include: belaud, bemirror, bullyism, circumgyratory, disenchain, elocutionary, elocutionize, Macauleyism, markedness, melodramatism, mispunctuate, multicolour, mystific, normality, overscore, paragraphism, pesty, phaseless,…

(via poetrysociety)

poetrysociety:

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore. This city will always pursue you. You’ll walk the same streets, grow old in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses. You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere: there’s no ship for you, there’s no road. Now that you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner, you’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world.C. P Cavafy, from The City, translated by Edmund KeeleyCavafy etching by David Hockney, 1967
High-res →

poetrysociety:

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You’ll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there’s no ship for you, there’s no road.
Now that you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world.

C. P Cavafy, from The City, translated by Edmund Keeley
Cavafy etching by David Hockney, 1967