If poetry was a person, it would be naked. Because words speak too loudly, whether they are delicate or raw. Either way, you see them crying or smiling — tempting you to touch and feel exactly what they show you. The best thing about their body would be how much they allow themselves to show you. If they show too little, you want more; but if they show too much, you may perhaps make love.
Poetry could be as nude as you want it to be. The question I always ask myself is “how naked should I be today?”
I think I know where this is.
One time I was walking through the city with someone I dated (briefly) last year, and as we held hands and crossed a street, she said something about how much she liked me. As I returned the sentiment, I looked up and immediately saw this sign.
Turns out we didn’t last.
Turns out neither of us really liked each other all that much.
Turns out my life is literally an Ace of Base song.
“some ideas are just too big for this piece of paper” from the “100(+) posterworks” series by anna gray & ryan wilson paulsen
The afternoon sky
The trees refused to stand still
My hair flew
Your jacket was not
Enough but I
Felt compelled to keep going
I walked for an
Hour away from the
Familiar never fearing
I knew I’d find
My way back
I knew a fire would be burning
Don’t Walk Your Lady
Down Skid Row.
A Typical Evening.
I keep looking at the photograph you took
The one with the barren trees silhouetted
Against the castle, where was it, Ireland?
You captured a murder of crows in flight
Startled by your step
You snapped it in black and white giving
It a truly Gothic feel
We slept there that night in one of…