Old before your time
When I was a younger man, lookin’ for my pot of gold Everywhere I turned the doors were closin’ It took every ounce of faith I had to keep on keepin’ on And still I felt like I was only losin’ I refused then like I do now and anybody tie me down And I lost a few good friends along the way I was raised up poor and I wanted more And maybe I’m a little too proud...
A Friday night. It looked like you came straight from fighting something that...– from Ander Monson, “Saw You There” (via poetryeater)
from Christian Bök, "Geodes"
landslides drag you down a funnelled pit through the waist of an hourglass into an oubliette for all sleepers. gravel showers bruise your body till you swoon, the sand a fluid solid, spilling time away into dunes on display in tiny jars. geology writes a eulogy for all that it buries by pressing words, like moths, between pages of a mammoth encyclopedia.
Jenny Joseph When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings...