hey, psyche

I learned there’s nothing more shaming
or as memorable as an intimacy
unreturned. And turned, therefore,
to the expected silence of a page,
where I might simultaneously assert
and hide, be my own disappointment,
which saved me for a while.
But soon the page whispered
I’d mistaken its vastness for a refuge,
its whiteness for a hospital
for the pathetic. Fill me up, it said,
give me sorrow because I must have joy,

all the travails of love because
distances are where the safe reside.
Bring to me, it said, continual proof
you’ve been alive.

from "Turning to the Page," by Stephen Dunn

Ask me anything | RSS | Archive

Sep. 12, 2012 at 2:43pm with 5 notes

alex katzflowers

Alex Katz, Poppies 1967.

1. vanillaskynet likes this
2. dukedesilver likes this
3. lookvariousthings reblogged this from wyattgwyon
4. joshuabrianbogart likes this
5. wyattgwyon posted this

<    >

Not Quite by Peter Vidani
Standing on Tumblr