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Poem

The world, caught
Up in the breath from her chest

Cast me forward
Tossed and toiling
Against

The black earth
My Mother

Never forgotten
She ripped me from her
Body, dripping covered

In black and red remnants
Of gestation

She let me loose
Upon this world

Screaming and wailing
In a foreshadowing of the night
To come when the world

Sees itself floating in the rye
Fields of its memories.

Bad books on writing tell you to ‘WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW’, a solemn and totally false adage that is the reason there exist so many mediocre novels about English professors contemplating adultery.
Joe Haldeman (via carpebutts)
understructure:

Alhambra Palace, Granada, Spain by wamcclung

understructure:

Alhambra Palace, Granada, Spain by wamcclung

medievalpoc:

Anonymous Artist (Constantinople)
Medallion with Saint George From an Icon Frame
Byzantine (c. 1100)
Cloisonné enamel, gold, D. 8.3 cm.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art

medievalpoc:

Anonymous Artist (Constantinople)

Medallion with Saint George From an Icon Frame

Byzantine (c. 1100)

Cloisonné enamel, gold, D. 8.3 cm.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Poem

Today
The news says that
Prom season is coming up
This week. We should
Go buy dresses and flowers.
This is the news.

The wife is hard at work on our children’s book.

The wife is hard at work on our children’s book.

poem

the world is built 
up by little pieces

and i held them in my hand
like minnows pulled from the creek

rainbow petals thrashing
about my fingers

begging for life

here i held the world
right between these fingers

the little pieces, gasping and asking
to breath

i am so over everything.