"there never was a body that give the undertaker a tip."
a meme, and a quote.
taken from the gorgeous headspin_x. when you see this, post a poem in your journal.
if i had the space, i'd post all of Whitman's Song of Myself here, because it is quite possibly one of my most favoritest poems of all time. but, alas, i'll post something shorter, and something that i've discovered quite recently, actually.
First Poem for You, by Kim Addonizio:
I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can't see them. I'm sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning pulsing just above
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you
to me, taking you until we're spent
and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss
the pictures in your skin. They'll last until
you're seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.
admittedly, this is the only poem of hers i've read, but it's struck me, and pieces of it, neat lines of lightning, serpent twists, have stayed in my mind. i think it's gorgeous.
also, we've just begun reading Flannery O'Connor in advanced english seminar, and boy oh boy! we've only read A Good Man Is Hard to Find (the story, not the collection) so far, but we're going to be reading a heck of a lot more of her, which i'm immensely thankful for, because--
"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."
--miss O'Connor is quite extraordinary.
taken from the gorgeous headspin_x. when you see this, post a poem in your journal.
if i had the space, i'd post all of Whitman's Song of Myself here, because it is quite possibly one of my most favoritest poems of all time. but, alas, i'll post something shorter, and something that i've discovered quite recently, actually.
First Poem for You, by Kim Addonizio:
I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can't see them. I'm sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning pulsing just above
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you
to me, taking you until we're spent
and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss
the pictures in your skin. They'll last until
you're seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.
admittedly, this is the only poem of hers i've read, but it's struck me, and pieces of it, neat lines of lightning, serpent twists, have stayed in my mind. i think it's gorgeous.
also, we've just begun reading Flannery O'Connor in advanced english seminar, and boy oh boy! we've only read A Good Man Is Hard to Find (the story, not the collection) so far, but we're going to be reading a heck of a lot more of her, which i'm immensely thankful for, because--
"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."
--miss O'Connor is quite extraordinary.