This too shall pass.
Sarah.
There are so many stories I could tell you.
six word poem 8/28/14

atonguewithbutsixwords:

We are
captured,
but not
prisoners.

Potraits

Matt
is short and skinny—
around 5’5” and a
similar personality
to his height; a
hopeless romantic
at eighteen who knows
the difference between
fucking and making love.

He placed his drink
on the ground while
he pulled two red and
green and yellow and
blue juggling balls out
of his pockets, tossing
them in the air and
always catching them.

"I’ve been living out
of a car for the
past three months before
coming to school,”
he said when I spoke
of my favorite friends’ house.

He is skinny
but strong, giving
solid hugs upon hellos
and goodbyes.
Tan skin and a green
tank top with close
brown hair and
a bright smile.

College is his
permanent home and
bed now and I wonder
if his parents worry
where he is at night or
if he has parents at all.

World Literature

My English major requires me
to take four literature surveys
only of American and British writers

Visions of white, rich men speaking
of money and family and small towns
and things I already know

The American dream is to
classically continue West
deeper into the comfort of new pages

I want to go East
in my American dream
to understand a rainbow of color

The world is lush
and translations are important
Because not all pages are white

shedskinbelight:

after they bury Michael Brown today

let us remember that the fight for justice is not over

please do not forget Ferguson

please keep Michael Brown on your mind, his family and friends in your hearts, and the city of Ferguson in your prayers

let us continue to stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters fighting for justice & peace

moon dust in your lungs
stars in your eyes

you are a child of the cosmos
and ruler of the skies
for em (via thetimeofthedoctor)
repaving:

May 3, 2014
     I was laying in bed when I thought of this, and practically threw myself across the room to a pen and some paper to write it down. 

repaving:

May 3, 2014

     I was laying in bed when I thought of this, and practically threw myself across the room to a pen and some paper to write it down. 

A meditation on an owl

I am unsure of
the best way to unhook your
dead talons from my heartstrings.

A poem begins with a lump in the throat.
— Robert Frost
I’ve been hurt so bad and I still love so hard. I admire my heart for that.
— Alexandra Elle, Words from a Wanderer (via mourningmelody)

beben-eleben:

Six-Word Stories That Are Absolutely Heart-Breaking