Mike Driver
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if i look back, i am lost

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@tinyghosts

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Lunch Poems / Frank O’Hara
—St Paul and all that
Come. And Be My Baby, Maya Angelou
[ Begin ID: A poem that reads "The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that'll burn Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass And you sit wondering where you're going to turn. I got it. Come. And be my baby.
Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow But others say we've got a week or two The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror And you sit wondering What you're gonna do. I got it. Come. And be my baby." / End ID ]
Hollywood Clockwise by Natalie Shapero
The City Limits by A. R. Ammons

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Evening Sun by Jane Kenyon
All the years of my life I thought I was searching for love I found, retrospectively, to be years where I was simply trying to recover what had been lost, to return to the first home, to get back the rapture of first love. I was not really ready to love or be loved in the present. I was still mourning-- clinging to the broken heart of girlhood, to broken connections.
from All About Love: New Visions, bell hooks
Wildness Before Something Sublime Leila Chatti
Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
that wilfred owen poem about everyone kissing the crucifix but he kisses the hands of the boy whos holding it hits HARD not sure why but damn
found it....

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Adult Grief
by Louise GlĂĽck
Because you were foolish enough to love one place, now you are homeless, an orphan in a succession of shelters. You did not prepare yourself sufficiently. Before your eyes, two people were becoming old; I could have told you two deaths were coming. There has never been a parent kept alive by a child's love.
Now, of course, it's too late -- you were trapped in the romance of fidelity. You kept going back, clinging to two people you hardly recognized after what they'd endured.
If once you could have saved yourself, now that time's past: you were obstinate, pathetically blind to change. Now you have nothing: for you, home is a cemetery. I've seen you press your face against the granite markers -- you are the lichen, trying to grow there. But you will not grow, you will not let yourself obliterate anything.
Chuck Palahniuk, oof
Wildness Before Something Sublime Leila Chatti
— James Baldwin from Giovanni’s Room (1956)
frank o’hara

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– Robert Hass
Heed the Hollow, Malcolm Tariq