A doctor once told me I feel too much.
I said, “So does God
That’s why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon.”
We are a telescope, a riverbed.
We are empty lockets melting into gold.
We are hearts breaking bread.
Fold me in the napkin poem,
Pull the tinsel from my hair from all the past I cannot let go.
My gills are adjusting to the air,
The story husk peeled from my bones;
My bones know the song of our tears,
Dripping from the faucet,
Ticking like a metronome.
I know there is better music,
Even in this cabin full of fever.
I said, “So does God
That’s why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon.”
We are a telescope, a riverbed.
We are empty lockets melting into gold.
We are hearts breaking bread.
Fold me in the napkin poem,
Pull the tinsel from my hair from all the past I cannot let go.
My gills are adjusting to the air,
The story husk peeled from my bones;
My bones know the song of our tears,
Dripping from the faucet,
Ticking like a metronome.
I know there is better music,
Even in this cabin full of fever.
― Andrea Gibson, from “Jellyfish” (via growing-orbits)
Years ago, when I was rotten with virtue, I believed loveliness was just a face, a flower,
no underside to it, no dark complication.
no underside to it, no dark complication.
― —Stephen Dunn, opening lines to “Loveliness” from Between Angels (W.W. Norton & Co., 1989) A Poet Reflects (via poetfire)
