(via buddhablood)
289 notes
i wake to see the world go wild.
Friday, May 11
Monday, May 7
Thursday, May 3
when it all comes clear when the wind it settles i’ll be here you know.
cause you said ours were the lighthouse tower,
the sun upon that place.
(Source: mweber4)
1 note
Tuesday, May 1
we all think about suddenly disappearing
Whenever you put your feet on the floor
in the morning, whatever the nightmare,
it’s a miracle or fantastic illusion:
the solidity of the boards, the steadiness
coming into the legs. Where did we get
the idea when we were kids to rub dirt
into the wound or was that just in Pennsylvania?
Maybe poems are made of breath, the way water,
cajoled to boil, says, This is my soul, freed.
Monday, April 30
Tuesday, April 24
Monday, April 23
