Speak softly.

to soothe eliot and auden and pound; the worst is nearly over

Reblogged from moderateclimates


And if, like Yeats,
I loom: a scepter
in the South of France
to warn you of the moon—

Then breathe,
unfriends, breathe.
We are excised:
but poetry is
mysticism unraveled.

I am simply Ghost,
haunting by the wings.

You have the stage.

Let the sunrise


Reblogged from textbookpoetry


Imagine the force.

A pendulum called stable 

tends to return to a simple particle

that is free only initially,

at rest. Reversing its motion, returning 

in the absence, repeats endlessly,

plotted of smoothly joined time is called 

turning points. Two equivalent ways

must always act, because mathematics is simple 

and we try to pull the atoms but if we were to stretch 

the spring, we reduce to that of problems common 

to our goal.

from Physics by Resnick, et al. Vol 1. 5 ed. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2002. Print.

Atonal Melody

Reblogged from textbookpoetry


Consider when you fall asleep

messages received by broad

regions, widespread patterns

of meandering connections— more or less

excitable, more or less synchronous,

and so on.

Like the lyrics or melody of a song

but necessarily vague.

It is clear, however,

that how electrically active they are,

individually and in combination,

is available for release,


from Neuroscience: Exploring the Brain. 3rd ed. Mark F. Bear, et al. Philadelphia: Lippincott Williams & Wilkins, 2007. Print. 

Reblogged from falling-into-hell


Its been months
But I’m
Pulling the weeds you planted in my skin
I’ve been waiting
And waiting
And waiting
But the flowers have yet to bloom


Reblogged from justcallmeharper


Wing-Flutter mammal 



       from a tongue all unhoused

where next

   among voices

uninterrupted by




Reblogged from loqui


Whoever you are,
I am there with you too—
a lot more sure
of my heart
than I am
of my footing.

Reblogged from asyoulikeitbb


Sometimes it’ll still loom over my body like a massive gray cloud. It’s been so long since I’ve seen sunlight and all I feel and hear are raindrops and I haven’t a clue as to what an umbrella would look like.

Reblogged from loqui


on a windowsill
as close
as we’ll get
to the outside world
while our minds dissolve
into the same drop of rain.

Reblogged from loveemonster


Stirred by assured streams
That know and carve a place on
The strong pulled earth. I am
Not able to trickle efforts or send
Them flooding, I try so hard
Not to be suckered into the azure
Before my own eyes. I fall…

"i planted a garden in my bed because i thought the dirt and petals would take my mind off the absence of you.

but at the end of the day i found myself sitting in the grass wondering what happened."

Reblogged from beccacita