In May’s red ruse and smattered ravishings

you one, you two, you three your cruder schemes,
you blanch black lurk and blood the pallid bone

and hum scald need where the body says I am
and the rose sighs Touch me, I am dying

in the pleatpetal purring of mouthweathered May.
—  Karen Volkman, “May”

1 week ago · 0 notes

I was perplexed as to what the usefulness of any of the arts might be, with the possible exception of interior decoration. The most positive notion I could come up with was what I call the canary-in-the-coal-mine theory of the arts. This theory argues that artists are useful to society because they are so sensitive. They are supersensitive. They keel over like canaries in coal mines filled with poison gas, long before more robust types realize that any danger is there. […] On the other hand, artists are keeling over by the thousands every day and nobody seems to pay the least attention.
—  

Kurt Vonnegut, Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons

(via Rachel R.)

1 week ago · 3 notes

What had been there
is gone now
and lives in my heart
.
where, periodically,
it opens up its wings,
tearing me apart.
—  Phillis Levin, “End of April”

1 month ago · 0 notes

Spring

BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

1 month ago · 0 notes

Raining cats and cats

shitmystudentswrite:

later the hurricane was downgraded to a cat orgy 3.

1 month ago · 468 notes · Source · Reblogged from shitmystudentswrite

ADRIENNE RICH

poetrysince1912:

If this were a map
it would be the map of the last age of her life,
not a map of choices but a map of variations
on the one great choice. It would be the map by which
she could see the end of touristic choices,
of distances blued and purpled by romance,
by which she would recognize that poetry
isn’t a revolution but a way of knowing
why it must come.

—Poetry, October 1987

Poet Adrienne Rich has died. 

1 month ago · 67 notes · Source · Reblogged from themissourireview

It will not be simple, it will not take long
It will take little time, it will take all your thought
It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath
It will be short, it will not be simple

It will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart
It will not take long, it will occupy all your thought
As a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied
It will take your flesh, it will not be simple

You are coming into us who cannot withstand you
You are coming into us who never wanted to withstand you
You are taking parts of us into places never planned
You are going far away with pieces of our lives

It will be short, it will take all your breath
It will not be simple, it will become your will
—  “Final Notions” by Adrienne Rich, who passed away this afternoon at the age of 82. (via millionsmillions)

1 month ago · 254 notes · Source · Reblogged from themissourireview

W. W. Norton: Do you have readers who come up to you and say, “You’ve changed my life?”

wwnorton:

Adrienne Rich: Yes, I do, and I usually say to them—which I also believe to be true—“You were changing your life and you read my book or you read that poem at a point where you could use it, and I’m really glad, but you were changing your life.” Somehow when we are in the process of making…

1 month ago · 177 notes · Source · Reblogged from wwnorton

Someone is writing a poem. Words are being set down in a force field. It’s as if the words themselves have magnetic charges; they veer together or in polarity, they swerve against each other. Part of the force field, the charge, is the working history of the words themselves, how someone has known them, used them, doubted and relied on them in a life. Part of the movement among the words belongs to sound—the guttural, the liquid, the choppy, the drawn-out, the breathy, the visceral, the downlight. The theater of any poem is a collection of decisions about space and time—how are these words to lie on the page, with what pauses, what headlong motion, what phrasing, how can they meet the breath of the someone who comes along to read them? And in part the field is charged by the way images swim into the brain through written language: swan, kettle, icicle, ashes, scab, tamarack, tractor, veil, slime, teeth, freckle.
—  

Adrienne Rich, “Someone is Writing a Poem”

I read these words and all I can say is, Fuck. This makes me want to write poetry.

1 month ago · 0 notes

The reading of a poem, a poetry reading, is not a spectacle, nor can it be passively received. It’s an exchange of electrical currents through language—that daily, mundane, abused, and ill-prized medium, that instrument of deception and revelation, that material thing, that knife, rag, boat, spoon/reed become pipe/tree trunk become drum/mud become clay flute/conch shell become summons to freedom/old trousers and petticoats become iconography in appliqué/rubber bands stretched around a box become lyre.
—  Adrienne Rich, “Someone is Writing a Poem”

1 month ago · 1 note

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.
—  Ray Bradbury

2 months ago · 0 notes

Angel and Muse approach from without; the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod
learned of them). Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the
Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.
—  Frederico Garcia Lorca, “The Duende: Theory and Divertissement”

3 months ago · 0 notes

I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
—  Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

4 months ago · 4 notes

New Year’s Survey 2012

‎1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Defended a thesis (to clarify, this was not my first thesis—it’s my third thesis—but it was my first defense). Drove for 14 hours straight by myself. Then did it several more times. Experimented with desserts: made cakes in jars, a 6-layer rainbow birthday cake, nanaimo bars, and petit fours. A few things I won’t post here.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Some of them. I did have a relatively spicy year, I did finish my thesis, did graduate with my MFA, did send out poems and get my first poetry publication acceptances. Yes, more. Always more.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes, Samara had baby Eliza! We had Baby Fridays while I was in Columbus, which I miss a lot. And Joan had twin boys! Heather had Anna! (Was that this year? I’m losing track.)

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, thank goodness.

5. What places did you visit?

Washington, DC road trip for the AWP conference. I visited family at my grandmother’s house near Buffalo. Cranberry picking on Cape Cod with Renee. Emily Dickinson’s homestead with Ida.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

A full-time job. Health insurance. Romance. 

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

My MFA thesis defense, which was May… something. And Epilog, which was June… something. Does that still count?

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Graduating with my MFA degree, finishing and defending my thesis, reading at Epilog, and getting my poems published. Sometimes just surviving feels like a big achievement.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I wouldn’t necessarily call it failure, but I was disappointed about how hard it was to balance thesis, teaching, job searching, and life on my own all at once. I didn’t feel like I did a good enough job at any of them. The result being that I didn’t start the job search early enough, didn’t find the job I wanted in 2011, and had to move out of my apartment in Columbus and back home, which felt a lot like failure. Although I know it’s just a time for recharging and figuring things out.   

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I had a lot of mental and emotional stress and anxiety this year, which did affect my physically. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Red dress for Epilog. 

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

My parents, for sure. Rachel R., who read her work in public for the first time at Epilog! I was so happy and proud of her. Anne B., whose bravery and honesty amazes me, in life and on the page. Thao, my most stylish friend, who traveled far and wide to learn about her family and herself. Allison, who is consistently the most enthusiastic, positive, and inspiring person I know. Danielle and the other LBs, for making me laugh more than anyone and getting me through the day. MaryKatherine, for her strength, endurance, and friendship. 

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Hmm. There were people whose actions or words disappointed me, but this isn’t the place to name names.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Rent. Vet bills.

15. What did you get really excited about?

Epilog. My birthday. Dinner and a Movie nights. Ladies 80s. AWP. Emily Dickinson’s house. Nail polish.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

Rolling in the Deep. Pumped Up Kicks. Stay (I missed you). Red Dress. Fast Car (for our terrible karaoke rendition, ugh).

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

Happier or sadder? A little sadder, but less anxious.

Thinner or fatter? Probably fatter, given the beer and the food and the sitting at a desk for 40 hours a week now.

Richer or poorer? About the same. Which is depressing considering I have been working 40 hours a week for the last two months.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

More doing.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Less thinking, procrastinating, and being anxious.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

In Rhode Island with my family. Presents with my parents and brother, then dinner at my other brother’s house with his girlfriend, her daughter, and her family.

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Not entirely. 

22. What was your favorite TV program?

The Office. The Killing. True Blood. 

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

I don’t think there is anyone I actually hate. There are people who annoy me. There are people I’ve been disappointed by, or felt mad at, or withdrawn from. But this fluxuates.

24. What was the best book you read?

The Wisdom of the Enneagram. Emily Dickinson’s Collected Poems. 

25. What music did you get excited about?

Adele. Florence + The Machines. Foster the People. Kate Walsh. Brendan’s mix CDs. Karaoke tunes. Costunes.

26. What did you want and get?

A lot of helping on moving day. Letters. Pefume and a wax seal necklace for Christmas.

27. What did you want and not get?

A career, rather than a job. 

28. What was your favorite film of this year?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. Bridesmaids. Midnight in Paris.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 33. I spent the day on a photo shoot with Thao at the Botanical Gardens and the Columbus Museum of Art, which was the best present ever. Then I had dinner at a Mexican restaurant with good friends in Columbus, and to a karaoke bar after that.

30. What one thing would have made your year more satisfying?

Finding the right job.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Impeccablely coordinated color-blocking. Layers. Jewel-tones. Peacock feathers. Handmade jewelry and knitted purses. Red lipstick. Nail polish.  Auburn locks.

32. What kept you sane?

Letters from friends. Yoga. Netflix. Poetry. Music. My sense of humor (even when other people don’t get it, I still crack myself up and that is what is important to me). My own space. Craft projects. The LBs.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Ryan Gosling. 

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

So many issues about women’s choice about what to do with their own bodies. Somehow, it seems to me that 2011 took enormous steps backward in time when it comes to Feminist issues. It makes me extremely sad and angry. 

35. Whom did you miss?

I missed the ocean a lot this year, and my family. Now that I’m near the ocean and my family again, I miss Columbus and so many friends there. A lot a lot.

36. Who was the best new person you met?

I didn’t meet a lot of new people, but I became a lot closer to several people I knew already or sort of knew. They know who they are. I think I officially met Brendan this year. So him. And Claire. My favorite new internet friend.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

I’m not perfect?

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I think I’m breaking down again. 

I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

All your compliments and cutting remarks/ Are captured here in my quotation marks.

Redhead walking.

4 months ago · 9 notes

Make this Affirmation today: “I now affirm that my life and struggles are meaningful and rewarding.” (Enneagram Transformations, 74)
—  Type Five EnneaThoughtsm for December 23rd, The Enneagram Institute

5 months ago · 1 note