August 2011
95 posts
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Lord, the air smells good...
by Rumi
Lord, the air smells good today, straight from the mysteries within the inner courts of God. A grace like new clothes thrown across the garden, free medecine for everybody. The trees in their prayer, the birds in praise, the first blue violets kneeling. Whatever came from Being is caught up in being, drunkenly forgetting the way back.
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The Presence of Trees
by Michael S. Glaser
I have always felt the living presence of trees
the forest that calls to me as deeply as I breathe,
as though the woods were marrow of my bone as though
I myself were tree, a breathing, reaching arc of the larger canopy
beside a brook bubbling to foam like the one
deep in these woods, that calls
that whispers home
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I wish I understood jet lag. Then maybe I could overcome it. #brighteyed #bushytailed
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“I wish I could write a beautiful book to break those hearts that are soon to...”
– Zelda Fitzgerald (via noratherese)
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Genesis
By Billy Collins
It was late, of course,
just the two of us still at the table
working on a second bottle of wine
when you speculated that maybe Eve came first
and Adam began as a rib
that leaped out of her side one paradisal afternoon.
Maybe, I remember saying,
because much was possible back then,
and I mentioned the talking snake
and the giraffes ticking their necks out...
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Violence, Looting, and Rioting across England →
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Riots in Birmingham →
Welp. I guess I won’t be buying any new Adidas right when I get back..
Seriously, say a prayer for the safety of the people there. It’s a sad situation.
“We spend our lives as a tale to be told.”
– Psalms.
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Bread and Butter
Billy Collins
You could hear the ocean from my room
in the guesthouse where I often stayed,
that constant, distant, washy rumbling under the world.
I would sometimes slide back the glass door
and stand on the deck in a thin robe
just to be under the stars again or under the clouds
and to hear more clearly the dogs
on the property barking-the brave mother and her pups,
all white,...
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The Decemberists - Hey, That’s No Way to Say...
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Bermuda
Billy Collins
When we walk down the bleached-out wooden stairs
to the beach and lie on our backs
on the blue and white chaises
near the edge of the water
on this dot in the atlas,
this single button on the blazer of the sea,
we come about as close
as a man and a woman can
to doing nothing.
All morning long we watch the clouds
roll overhead
or close our eyes and do the lazy
...
“She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there, leaning on the...”
– J.D. Salinger, A Girl I Knew (via lightoverleiden)
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texturism:
home/untitled | mumford & sons
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