Irregular Choice

'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards'

How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.

—Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights (via wordsnquotes)

(via shoeboxtony)

#Happy

#Happy

Stop planting flowers in people’s yards who aren’t going to water them…

Poetry as a way of approaching the world — as the urgent effort — probably futile — to get at something inside or outside through language — or to escape into language as a way to survive a brutal material or psychological world. Somehow language — the effort in the ineffability of words — can save us if we can engage at a deep enough level to get past the pain. That’s then a poem and more than a poem. It’s a mode of living. What we call a poem might not be more than a momentary snapshot of an ongoing life in language — a dislocation, an exile.

#Leclub55

#Leclub55