You will need a bottle of cloud

:
“You will need a bottle of cloud
for anesthesia.
Like the flight of a crane
through colorless dreams.” — 

Carolyn Forché, Poetry Magazine March 2011, “The Ghost of Heaven” (via orioninacobweb) 

  image: middlechildcomplex

try to remember some details

try to remember some details. remember the clothing

of the one you love
so that on the day of loss you’ll be able to say: last seen
wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat.
try to remember some details. for they have no face
and their soul is hidden and their crying
is the same as their laughter,
and their silence and their shouting rise to one height
and their body temperature is between 98 and 104 degrees
and they have no life outside this narrow space
and they have no graven image, no likeness, no memory
and they have paper cups on the day of their rejoicing
and paper cups that are used once only.

try to remember some details. for the world
is filled with people who were torn from their sleep
with no one to mend the tear,
and unlike wild beasts they live
each in his lonely hiding place and they die
together on battlefields
and in hospitals.
and the earth will swallow all of them,
good and evil together, like the followers of korah,
all of them in their rebellion against death,
their mouths open till the last moment,
praising and cursing in a single
howl. try, try
to remember some details.

 by yehuda amichai

via:  onlyondemairt

 Photoshoot by Kristamas Klousch

 image:lushlight - Source: philguillou

words in air

Untitled by agelessbeautyalways on Polyvore.com

... Do

you still hang your words in air, ten years

unfinished, glued to your notice boards, with gaps

or empties for the unimaginable phrase —

unerring Muse who makes the casual perfect?

Almost 20 years after they met, Lowell wrote to Bishop: "How wonderful you are, dear, and how wonderful that you write me letters. What a block of life has passed since we met."

When Lowell died, Bishop wrote an elegiac poem called "North Haven," referring to the island in the Penobscot Bay where both had spent time:

You left North Haven, anchored in its rock,

afloat in mystic blue ... And now — you've left

for good. You can't derange, or re-arrange,

poems again. (But the sparrows can their song.)

The words won't change again. Sad friend, you cannot change.

Words in Air, correspondence between Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell
 

 via: here

Her song was never a nightingale

 

she stood on his balcony
he asked her if she was
in the movie.i do what i can
to survive she said, balancing
the candles glued in her hair.

he kissed her.a mouth filled
with paper stars. teeth for
the archeologists to find.

the sun was sliced orange
against the sky. a veiled lady
in the garden held shears.
off with their heads, she screamed
at the flowers.

Zoe Miller

image: little augury via victoria thorne