by Flickr / rex_0116

by Flickr / infire

Today A Rainstorm Caught Me

batifoler:

Today a rainstorm caught me
and I still have not recovered
myself with drier blankets
The brown leaves blowing
off the trees, squirrels
and robins cheering them on, but not

cheering me     And anxiousness has an owl
by the throat, has me pill-popped up
to Heaven Hill, head spinning one hundred eighty
degrees, looking to the past and the future
for some news about the present

which of course is useless     Even I know that     Mean-
while, Agnes upstairs plays with Grace—
the little neighbor girl—not the idea of unmerited
forgiveness in light      The two of them make up
words to no music or to My Fictions
and The Saddest Landscape

Sometimes it’s hard to say which,
no matter how hard I pretend to listen
I am no expert at thunder and lightning
I am no expert at eggbirds and ghost-
typing the air to remember a song

Today a rainstorm caught me up
The rain came down, and it still comes down
The rain comes down is all I know

about how sometimes life finds me stupid on the porch
with a couple of empty beer bottles,
humming and waiting for god knows what, some
warm weather to calm me, a few minor thoughts
All these days, reasons end somewhere

The water still rolls with an owl in its blood
We reverberate through it very softly

Matt Hart

by rabbit-light

azurea:

Luz que agoniza (by Antonio Gutiérrez Pereira)

azurea:

Luz que agoniza (by Antonio Gutiérrez Pereira)

by flickr.com

by mikeysmth

"It’s true that two hummingbirds singing
in exactly the same pitch
can shatter the blackest of mountains.
But it’s also true that the missiles
in those mountains can shatter
a hummingbird to pieces of hummingbird.
The end. But this curled mess of black
yarn, this series of concrete barrier
entanglements, means that we have to be ready
for no matter what, for whatever
might befall us—hummingbirds, missiles,
those drugged-out runway models. I’m telling you
man, we know each other like we know
the ghost knowing each other,
and I’m so fucking grateful
I could fly a kite about it:
this terrifying state of the seasons,
this half-baked smell of church.
I lurch forward to go backward,
awkward to go on the record. I just can’t
get over those blues at the window.
And the tiny bit of yellow, like cats’ teeth
spitting sparks. How lucky we are to have light,
how marvelous to scribble over fate.
The reason it’s good to have faith
is the reason for everything good."

Electron Face by Matt Hart (via batifoler)

by batifoler

by airows

joshuabrathwaite:

The Boy and The Balloon 

joshuabrathwaite:

The Boy and The Balloon 

by joshuabrathwaite

by funeraire

by plizm

"There are poems
inside of you
that paper can’t
handle."

– Y.Z. (via anorsexic)

by rustyvoices

breadfairy:

Midwest

by breadfairy

jtotheizzoe:

shychemist:

geogallery:

Landscape agate from Blue Hole near Montrose. From the Heddle collection at National Museums Scotland. (Source)

Its like a painting!

I’ve heard geologists say that every rock holds a story, but this takes it to another level.

jtotheizzoe:

shychemist:

geogallery:

Landscape agate from Blue Hole near Montrose. From the Heddle collection at National Museums Scotland. (Source)

Its like a painting!

I’ve heard geologists say that every rock holds a story, but this takes it to another level.

by geogallery

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