kantrips reblogged
Mary Oliver, ‘north country’
kantrips reblogged
Ada Limón, from “Sometimes I Think My Body Leaves a Shape in the Air”, The Carrying: Poems
kantrips reblogged
Ocean Vuong, Night Sky with Exit Wounds
kantrips reblogged
Edna St. Vincent Millay, from “Three Songs of Shattering”, Collected Poems
kantrips reblogged
John Donne, from ‘The Sun Rising’
kantrips reblogged
Ocean Vuong, from “Tell Me Something Good.”
kantrips reblogged
kantrips reblogged
Catherine Pierce
[TEXT ID: Probably It Will Be Summer Again
one of these days, and if it is I’ll swim, / bobbing up and down over probably, / it will be summer and my god I’ll say hello / to people who don’t live in my house, / it will be summer and my eyes reluctant after a full day / of refracted ocean light and dolphin-squint, or maybe / library and carousel and everyone’s bright / skirts, bright sunglasses, bright burns and canvas bags, / I’ll rejoin the perpetual chorus of We should, /perpetual chorus of Let’s, my god my best friend’s baby / who’s talking now, my god the bay is still there / and I promise I will be a fool for humans and all / wild proclivities, I will gently turn horseshoe crabs / right-side-up, I will not tell myself Maybe a meteor / or Maybe a phone call or Maybe a sudden shift / in atmosphere, I will remind myself of mouths / moving in ways that are summer and of my skin / casual next to someone else’s skin and the soft / salt smell and haunted house shrieks, and Probably / I will say, Probably I will make myself say, and I will say it / and I will say it until it is who and where, / it is who and where we are. END ID]
kantrips reblogged
Shetland
Helen Mort
Wind-whittled, turned on the sea’s lathe too long, built by a craftsman who can’t leave it alone: the trees scoured off, the houses pared down to their stones, the animals less skin than bone.
We walk to Windhoose, find a barn even the ghosts have left, a sheep’s spine turning on a string, a name reduced to nothing but its sound. Our silences become the better part of us.
kantrips reblogged
Victoria Chang, from “Love Letters,” in The Trees Witness Everything
kantrips reblogged
― Speeches for Dr Frankenstein, Margaret Atwood
[text ID: you dangle on the leash / of your own longing; your / need grows teeth]
kantrips reblogged
Ada Limón, "The Problem With Travel", from Bright Dead Things
kantrips reblogged
Ilya Ehrenburg, 20th Century Russian Poetry: Silver and Steel, from ‘I lived obscurely...’, tr. Gordon McVay
kantrips reblogged
When one is alone and lonely, the body
gladly lingers in the wind or the rain,
or splashes into the cold river, or
pushes through the ice-encrusted snow.
Anything that touches.
Mary Oliver (via notebookofquotes)
kantrips reblogged
Anne Sexton, The Awful Rowing Toward God; from 'The Poet of Ignorance'
