Posted 1 year ago
7 Notes
The Poetry of John Berryman (1970)
“This interview took place on October 8, 1970. Fifteen months later, on January 7, 1972, John Berryman committed suicide by jumping from the Washington Avenue Bridge in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He was 57.
In this interview, as on the page, Berryman is bristling with life.”
Source: youtube.com
Posted 1 year ago
via deadliftpoetry
77 Notes
Today I am going to pick you up at the beige airport.
My heart feels like a field of calves in the sun.
My heart is wired directly to the power source of mediocre songs.
I am trying to catch a ray of sunlight in my mouth.
I look forward to showing you my new furniture.
I look forward to the telephone ringing, it is not you,
you are in the kitchen trying to figure out the coffeemaker,
you are pouring out the contents of your backpack.
I wonder if you now have golden fur?
I wonder if your arsenal of kind remarks is empty?
I remember when I met you you were wearing a grey dress,
that was also blue, not unlike the water plus sky.
They say it’s difficult to put a leash on a hummingbird.
So let us be no longer the actuary of each other!
Let us bow no longer our heads to the tyranny of numbers!
Hurry off the plane, with your rhinestone covered bag
full of magazines that check up on the downfall of the stars.
I will be waiting for you at the bottom of the moving stairs.
- Matthew Zapruder
Posted 1 year ago
via lowrising
19 Notes
I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.
- Mary Oliver
(via lowrising)
Posted 1 year ago
via learningfromthehands
62 Notes
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
Source: vaporeuse
