"But it's a journey and the sad thing is you only learn from experience, so as much as someone can tell you things, you have to go out there and make your own mistakes in order to learn."
|—||Louise Erdrich, from The Plague of Doves (Harper Perennial, 2009)|
that my father starts to scrub her name off the floorboards.
He says oh, old habit, when I ask after his bleeding knuckles.
I didn’t know his stubbled lips
could say such hard words until there was
enough smoke to fill up all the rooms in our apartment.
I used to pretend the burning smell
was the heat of my mother’s heart,
but it’s been years since imagination dumped me for a better lover.
With his big, tan hands, my father used his fists.
My mother burnt the bed frame and kicked his feet from under him.
I started smashing dishes against the walls just to drown out
the sound of bodies breaking,
started staying the night in the street to get some quiet.
They blamed each other for how I flickered,
fucked angrily on nights they didn’t know I was there,
spat out psalms and dirty words.
It’s when the bruises start showing
and my mother sets her own bones
that my father drinks himself dumb every night.
When I ask after his blackened stomach lining,
he smiles and says
i write stanzas dedicated
to the winter in your shoulders,
to your sleep-grit eyes;
unsaid letters in half-asleep sighs,
but poetry is a trap,
not a prayer or a spell
to make me small enough
to exist in the spaces between your fingers;
i am small, but
i am not small enough to be dust.
i do not want to be dust.
|—||V. Ruston. (via vinceruston)|
We don’t know how to say goodbye,
We wander on, shoulder to shoulder
Already the sun is going down
You’re moody, and I am your shadow.
Let’s step inside a church, hear prayers, masses for the dead
Why are we so different from the rest?
Outside in the graveyard we sit on a frozen branch.
That stick in your hand is tracing
Mansions in the snow in which we will always be together.
|—||Anna Akhmatova, from “We Don’t Know How to Say Goodbye,” in The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova (Zephyr Press, 2000)|
|—||Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid (via observando)|