Sonnateers 365

Feb 14

“

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

” e.e. cummings, “[love is more thicker than forget]”

via the Poetry Foundation

Feb 13

C-Soulmates

Funny that the man whose name sprouted
“platonic” has such a golden ideal of love.

I hear his words caterwauling against my skull
whenever my heart skips a beat
you see we were made with
four arms
four legs
one head and two faces
our hearts beating in codependent unison
we were immortal in our convalescent coalition
until Jove heft his bolts and cleft us in twain
had us sewn up without our other halves
until we were
just dandelion seeds
on the wind, blown, scattered, strewn, in our pain

So when my eyes alight on your eyes
and I know that they are squinched with a smile
and a thought of our redolent reminiscences
I think I see a resemblance there
to my own soul
or should I say our soul?

And I know that we are not quite
magnetic enough to be two halves
of an ecstatic whole
two continental plates drifting together and not apart
but without those distinctive interlocking landmasses
like 1:10000 scale puzzle pieces wrinkled by charging seas
but you darling
(today alight with a laugh meant
not for me but falling upon my ears
in delight regardless)
remind me for a few stolen moments
of the same capricious kisses
that must drift from
the lips (across vast
unspecified distances)

of the other half
of my soul

Feb 1

(via lip-transcription)

A #15 - blanking out

blanking out under blankets

in the broken night with jagged edges

i am remembering the last drops of your

emotions as you bid me

farewell? good morning? i dont know. there is a faint

sadness to all of this and i am terrified of it

existing and knowing about it sometimes i would choose

blissiful ignorance over the impossibility of real feeling

and that it what is rending me to pieces come

back so i can hold you properly this time when i know

that is something i have to do i am awake and remembering

and it hurts so i sleep and can we cling to the bed together

our boat in the buffetting night and we can maybe hold

each other too for a while at least until we feel less desperate

and at least until we feel less anxious about the

encroaching of age and the uncertainty of time—

or perhaps the certainty as it plods so steadily on

and we want moments to be irregular up and down up

and we don’t want the surety that we will fade away

that we will slowly slowly blank out

Jan 29

“

—Is where space ends called death or infinity?
Pablo Neruda, The Book of Questions

A mere eyelid’s distance between you and me.

It took us a long time to discover the number zero.

John’s brother is afraid to go outside.
He claims he knows
the meaning of zero.

I want to kiss you.

A mathematician once told me you can add infinity
to infinity.

There is a zero vector, which starts and ends
at the same place, its force
and movement impossible
to record with
rays or maps or words.
It intersects yet runs parallel
with all others.

A young man I know
wants me to prove
the zero vector exists.
I tell him I can’t,
but nothing in my world
makes sense without it.

” Amy Uyematsu, The Meaning of Zero:A Love Poem (via yesyes)

(via grammatolatry)

“My house disgusted me, so I slept in a tent.
My tent disgusted me, so I slept in the grass. The grass disgusted me,
so I slept in my body, which I strung like a hammock from two ropes.
My body disgusted me, so I carved myself out of it.

My use of knives disgusted me because it was an act of violence.
My weakness disgusted me because “Hannah” means “hammer.”
The meaning of my name disgusted me because I’d rather be known
as beautiful. My vanity disgusted me because I am a scholar.

My scholarship disgusted me because knowledge is empty.
My emptiness disgusted me because I wanted to be whole.
My wholeness would have disgusted me because to be whole
is to be smug. Still, I tried to understand wholeness

as the inclusiveness of all activities: I walked out into the yard,
trying to vomit and drink milk simultaneously. I tried to sleep
while smoking a cigar. I have enough regrets to crack all the plumbing.
I’m whole only in that I’ve built my person from every thought I’ve ever loved.” Leisure, Hannah, Does Not Agree with You (2) by Hannah Gamble

it's history. it's poetry.: Parenting

thesestinacat:

thegirlwithoutapearlearring:

One time my sister and I

colored our closet doors with crayons.

It didn’t cover well, the wax

shavings clumped up in parts,

purples stopped looking like purples. More

like drops of dye in a glass of water.

After we scribbled as far up as

we could reach on both doors,

we went back outside and rode our bikes

around the cul-de-sac.

When Mom found out, she said

Dad was gonna hit the roof. I remember

imagining my dad turning into a rocketship

and plowing through the ceiling like

some sort of excavation drill, gleaming

through sawdust and insulation and me

being able to see the sky from the hole he left.

I was mostly afraid bugs would crawl in.

But Dad didn’t hit the roof.

He didn’t plow through it.

I think Mom was mad, mad that he wasn’t,

and she told us

that some parents beat up their own kids

for putting a hanger up the wrong way.

What in the freak. You guys, this is my friend, and she’s going to be a freaking boss somedaOHWAIT. SHE ALREADY IS.

A Word from (A)

Eh-yo!

Massive post-dump just occurred ‘cuz I was in a typin’ mood! At this ungodly hour! On a Monday! And they all old dates on them, which is why they’re not showin’ up in the Dash (oops).

I live dangerously.

Anyway, feel free to check it out if you’re so inclined!

- (A)

Jan 14

A #14 - an exercise in morning (prelude)

i glimpsed the horizon yesterday

from my bedroom

it was grey and

kind of sticky with clouds and i murmured

to myself of a sweet nothing and i said

maybe i will forget this when i am older and i

have woken back up again but i kept on falling

asleep. You, Satan, must know how that part

at the very least feels, falling, although I

am not comparing myself to Satan or asking him

to sympathize with me because he doesn’t

remember what sunsets are and so i feel

more pity for him than anger

I’m sorry if that makes me a sinner.

You will remember the moment with Meaning

if it ever comes to you for just a second and you

will either race across the streets knocking people asunder

and laughing with tears in your eyes and on your cheeks

trying to catch it before it fades and flashes away

climbing the tallest tower

or you will sit in your pajamas on your bed

and wonder if devastation really is supposed

to feel this much like nothing.