"My Friends we see the laborious Bee, In Gardens, Orchards, Fields,
To seek and suck what yields A sweet and wholsom Sap;
Here She loves to tarry, and that Juice to carry Into her HIVE.
Thus Let us strive to Imitate the same, Accounting it a Shame
If we should fail to gather some good things for our Reader."


-from the commonplace book of Francis Daniel Pastorius

24th May 2012

Photo reblogged from this isn't happiness. with 996 notes

nevver:

Things that are true

nevver:

Things that are true

Source: wendymacnaughton.blogspot.com

23rd May 2012

Quote reblogged from grammatolatry with 64 notes

Somewhere in everyone’s head something points toward home,
a dashboard’s floating compass, turning all the time
to keep from turning. It doesn’t matter how we come
to be wherever we are, someplace where nothing goes
the way it went once, where nothing holds fast
to where it belongs, or what you’ve risen or fallen to.

What the bubble always points to,
whether we notice it or not, is home.
It may be true that if you move fast
everything fades away, that given time
and noise enough, every memory goes
into the blackness, and if new ones come-

small, mole-like memories that come
to live in the furry dark-they, too,
curl up and die. But Carol goes
to high school now. John works at home
what days he can to spend some time
with Sue and the kids. He drives too fast.

Ellen won’t eat her breakfast.
Your sister was going to come
but didn’t have the time.
Some mornings at one or two
or three I want you home
a lot, but then it goes.

It all goes.
Hold on fast
to thoughts of home
when they come.
They’re going to
less with time.

Time
goes
too
fast.
Come
home.

Forgive me that. One time it wasn’t fast.
A myth goes that when the years come
then you will, too. Me, I’ll still be home.

— Miller Williams, The Shrinking Lonesome Sestina

Source: grammatolatry

16th May 2012

Quote reblogged from grammatolatry with 85 notes

You must make this mistake once—
pour boiling liquid into a blender, then pulse it.
Watch the steam blow the lid straight off.
When you see your burned hands, you’ll scream.
Other mistakes you repeat, finding yourself
in a familiar place, but worn out, like pigeons
circling a roof, the flock growing bigger,
then smaller. It will be this way with love.
Your neighbor plays something on the accordion,
starting and stopping before seeing it through,
but it’s not what you expected. It’s not even
about getting it right. You think it’s about
protecting yourself, and eventually you will—
not by learning how to love, but how to do so less often.
— Kellam Ayres, Practice

Source: grammatolatry

15th May 2012

Post with 4 notes

People watching in rittenhouse square has led me to the following potential blog ideas :
Rich ladies with dogs in rittenhouse square
Weird couples in rittenhouse square
Awkward social interactions in rittenhouse square
Cute children in rittenhouse square
Random people I kind of know in rittenhouse square

7th May 2012

Video

In Love and Loss

3rd May 2012

Photo with 2 notes

Andrew Wyeth - The Helga Pictures

Andrew Wyeth - The Helga Pictures

Tagged: Andrew WyethHelga PicturesPaintingWindow

3rd May 2012

Photo with 3 notes

Andrew Wyeth - The Helga Pictures

Andrew Wyeth - The Helga Pictures

Tagged: Andrew WyethThe Helga PicturesArtPortraitpainting

3rd May 2012

Post reblogged from tell me if this is all true with 3 notes

fluttering-slips:

Small Prayer


Change, move, dead clock, that this fresh day
May break with dazzling light to these sick eyes.
Burn, glare, old sun, so long unseen,
That time may find its sound again, and cleanse
Whatever it is that a wound remembers
After the healing end

Source: fluttering-slips

30th April 2012

Quote reblogged from grammatolatry with 512 notes

Some piece of you
stays in me and I’ll never give it back.
The heart hoards its thorns
just as the rose profligates.
Just because you’ve had enough
doesn’t mean you wanted too much.

Source: theparisreview.org

27th April 2012

Photo with 1 note

I love it when my hands get like this.

I love it when my hands get like this.

18th April 2012

Post reblogged from tell me if this is all true with 294 notes

fluttering-slips:

Like the Rain, Smell It Coming

 

I am dreaming of tornadoes again, too many for the sky to contain. I have checked eight websites and the dictionary on my nightstand. I did not need technology or a writer to tell me there is chaos in my heart. I don’t tell people sometimes my dreams come true. I fear some parts are not metaphor. In the mornings I check the horizon. I am relieved when there is some whisper of light. On the way home from camping, a large storm made the highway a blur of brake lights, my fingers killers to my steering wheel. I kept searching for funnels, their willowy bodies twisting their way to the ground. Mapped out escape routes and viaducts to pull beneath. Today I fell asleep on the couch again. The wind rustled me awake, and parts of the sky were dark again. I can’t shake that something is coming. I don’t do well with worry. My mother built me to fix things.
 

Source: fluttering-slips

15th April 2012

Photoset

Paulina Bartnick

Tagged: portraitartPaulina Bartnick

15th April 2012

Video

Chris Mooney on “The Repubican Brain”

Tagged: chris mooneypoliticsthis explains so muchfuckyeahrationalizing

14th April 2012

Post

Monologue of a Commercial Fisherman - Alan Dugan

“If you work a body of water and a body of woman
you can take fish out of one and children out of the other
for the two kinds of survival. The fishing is good,
both kinds are adequate in pleasures and yield,
but the hard work and the miseries are killing;
it is a good life if life is good. If not, not.
You are out in the world and in in the world,
having it both ways: it is sportive and prevenient living
combined, although you have to think about the weathers
and the hard work and the miseries are what I said.
It runs on like water, quickly, under the boat,
then slowly like the sand dunes under the house.
You survive by yourself by the one fish for a while
and then by the other afterward when you run out.
You run out a hooky life baited with good times,
and whether the catch is caught or not is a question
for those who go fishing for men or among them for things.”

Tagged: alan duganpoetryfree verse

14th April 2012

Audio post

Tagged: musicdaughtersyouth

Source: Spotify