#Toronto poems
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manwalksintobar · 1 year ago
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Turning Twenty-Three  // Anne Michaels
You turned twenty-two in the rain. We walked in rubber boots along Lowther, the shiny street as albumen under streetlamps.
At midnight, the sky suddenly clear we drove your jazz-filled car through cold, pungent streets to the lake where we collected stones by flashlight. The wind wrapped us in its torsions, we couldn’t hear each other although we shouted, wet with star-swallowing waves.
By morning the stones we’d found were dull with air, but I couldn’t forget the smell of the trees’ intimate darkness the scattered sound of the rain’s distracted hands, husks of buds in green pools on the sidewalks.
To love one person above all others is despair, you said, turning twenty-two. Propaganda of the senses, the narrow-minded heart.
We are magnets, averted by our sameness.
Above the corrugated, elastic lake the darkening sky holds out its arms. A thousand miles away, you’re turning twenty-three
I repeat your name, each time different into sand, into moonlight.
Far off, the lake crumbles at its edges, the sky holds out its arms.
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muirneach · 4 months ago
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'Sulphur' and 'Selenium' by Mary Soon Lee
Sulphur #16 sits atop Selenium #34 in the periodic table. Selenium is rarely found in nature without Sulphur nearby.
for the periodic haiku series by @simmyfrobby
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r0bzombixx · 11 months ago
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— unsent letters, margaux paul
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l-o-v-e-b-u-g-b-a-b-y · 6 months ago
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i love you, still. 11/17/23. <3
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sincerelymarner · 7 days ago
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WHITE HERON RISES OVER BLACKWATER
from devotions, mary oliver
(photo credits: mark blinch / mark blinch / kevin sousa / mark blinch / mark blinch)
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sergeifyodorov · 4 months ago
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Element 020 | Calcium | Borje Salming
Salming was one of the first European players to make an impact in the National Hockey League (NHL), for which he is often considered a trailblazer. Prior to Salming's arrival in the NHL, most North Americans considered European players too soft to play in the NHL.
About these "elements", Lavoisier reasoned: It is even possible that all the substances we call earths may be only metallic oxyds, irreducible by any hitherto known process.
for @simmyfrobby's series
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wehaveagathering · 1 year ago
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miguel hernández, trans. robert bly (x) // chris young; steve russell; kevin sousa; mark blinch; nathan denette; john e. sokolowski
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miiaspeaks · 6 months ago
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I LOVE SUE ZHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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crossbackpoke-check · 2 years ago
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Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman
part one | part two
#me when everybody is posting the maple leafs sad narratives and i am furiously generating this like HOLD ONNNN HOLD ONNNNNNN#honestly i could've been SOOOO MEAN about this because i saw this poem & alexandra got the preview on the poetry blog#where i just reblogged the first half of this poem point blank with the tags#kyle dubas#toronto maple leafs#& got yelled at aksdaksf & it literally only didn't go on this blog bc i usually write more & then it was percolating & i looked up the poe#& it was only the FIRST PART i'd reblogged i didn't know there was more & then brain immediately went brrrrr ok time for an edit.#this is a long one lol & i also have no idea if it makes sense to anybody but me but because y'all know me i will always overexplain so!!#my reasoning for the reasons obvi kyle. that's a given i hope he's doing well i hope he & his family r good but man is not coming in to wor#the second edit took me a stupid amount of time bc i am nitpicky but also i learned how to do the layers & transparency from the claude edi#that actually y'all don't know about lmao but i lost my mind when i saw how perfectly those pictures align i was scrolling getty & was like#ok december i'm gonna do a headline one (in my brain with the november/june quote about choosing to die again) w/ maple leafs playoff odds#how they say at winter break you know who's gonna be in the playoffs & who'll win & they thought they had a shot but it's mitchie overlaid#the 2003-04 team who'd last won a playoff round with the atlantic division stats from dec for 22-23 & how long it's been & dec headlines#i wanted breakup/recent/never loved to be a recent trade acquisition somebody who bounced around & somebody else so i almost had simmer#brodie & zar but then i wanted to make murray for breakup at any time &i forgot zar & him were on the pens together &it hit me like a truc#bc there's a photo of the two of them EXACTLY the same so close it's scary of this one but them as pens so they had to be it & i did always#know never loved again was mitchie. sorry. also mitchie in the penalty box the last game but i couldn't find footage of it & this one works#no i could not find a photo of tyler bertuzzi fighting a leaf for a dog looked at me yes i tried.#i almost made the bunting photo jt but instead it's 'bunting a rat etc' anyway the one i really feel unhinged about is dead pets bc at firs#i was gonna make it the handshake line & look to see if the leafs had drafted anybody on the panthers (dead pet former draft pick)#& they had & it was carter verhaeghe & i couldn't get a good pic of matthews & verhaeghe but it's fine bc i thought about the mo/luke schen#narrative (in which they are a perfect d pair long lost) & schenn was drafted by the leafs & that line fits jut trust me. also how i feel#about the kniesy luminous line that one possessed me it had to be kniesy idk why. i almost put gussy as girls are too pretty though ALSO#did u like my joke. daylight SAVINGS time on the goalie. thank u. also my photo magic on the jt (me very poorly editing in him as an isle)#OK ALSO HOLD ONNNNN there is a part two but i have to wait for the Content i want it will come out as soon as [redacted] or sooner#if i get bad at waiting &everyone will pretend like it is always the way it will be once i have the photos i want. speaking of did the leaf#simply not take a team photo this year?? it Does Not Exist for me i have tried very hard to look for it also i'm excited for part 2#one of them is named oh you're so unhinged for this one & the finished product is you're unhinged in ways you didn't even know u were sorry#liv in the replies
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the-final-lullaby · 3 months ago
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Climate Change
Hear
The Tock
On the clock
Wet time ticks away
Hope you brought an umbrella
For the storm will come your way
Tick Tock
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emuchipmunk · 2 years ago
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Toronto Maple Leafs x Franz Wright - Night Walk
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manwalksintobar · 1 year ago
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Words for the Body // Anne Michaels
       Landowska, overheard during a heated argument on interpretation:       “You play Bach your way, and I’ll play him his way.”
     1
We knew we’d reached Dunn Lake because the trees stopped. Chilled and sweating under winter clothes we stood in the damp degenerated afternoon. We grew up waiting together by water, frozen or free, in summer under the cool shaggy umbra of firs, or in the aquarium light of birches. It’s always been this way between us. We reach lakes and then we just stand there. Silence fills us with silence.
     2
When we were fourteen you read to me about Landowska, who “tottered the world and stopped the sun when she held a note.” We argued over interpretation until we were sixteen and discovered Casals: “The best musician learns to play what’s not on the page.” We decided music is memory, the way a word is the memory of its meaning.
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The first time I knew what we were trying for I was waiting on the back porch while you practised. Piano flickered the leaves, evening in perfect summer, temperature the same inside and outside my body, night a pigment on my skin.
In that swathing twilight I knew you’d had a lover. Everything became part of that new perception. The yard disappeared. Sudden as my sense of your body, I knew you were attempting silence. To move an audience until they aren’t listening.
We believed in our head’s perfect version, but you couldn’t make your hands, and I couldn’t make my words, pronounce it.
Even now when I hear you play I think of a lover, gasping at the gate of another, who suddenly knows love has no power to make it right.
    3
The summer you stopped playing we were driving home from the farm, windows full of stars on the dark highway, legs bare on vinyl seats, night air cold and new as from the sea.
In a voice that came from the highway you described the blackness where music waits, tormenting until you draw it out, a redemption. Then the fear of forgetting notes disappears, the fingers have a memory of their own.
You spoke of a kind of hunger that makes pleasure perfect. Then you said how it was to be opened and tasted by a hall full of people.
When we reached home you were crying.
Within a month you stopped playing. You stopped sleeping. Eighteen years old, exhausted, holding to the idea of perfect sound.
End of summer, rainy morning, your head in my hands. Across the room a jar of flowers made its small fire. Curtains held their breath against the wet screens.
    4
Dunn Lake We skied there gracelessly through the woods. Desperate light pressured black trees to hold their pose. The moon reached under the ice where the lake moved, obedient.
Night pressed its thumbs over our eyes. Too dark to take the way we came, we went by road.
You reached the farmhouse ahead of me, I saw your figure in the porch lights.
We ate watching the fire, logs collapsing under the weight of flame, flames collapsing with their own weight.
Almost no word spoken since our silence at the lake, you said you’d play again.
Over two years since your hands were yours.
You asked, smiling, face torn with shadows from the fire: “haven’t you given up the perfect word yet?”
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Fingers have a memory, to read the familiar braille of another’s skin. The body has a memory: the children we make, places we’ve hurt ourselves, sieves of our skeletons in the fat soil. no words mean as much as a life. Only the body pronounces perfectly the name of another.
    5
This morning your letter. A photo of redwoods in winter, the half-frozen pond. Remember the way we walked each other home— one block further, one block further— the way we skated in the ravine, late winter afternoon, so cold the air seemed to magnify the world, sky the colour of plums.
We sang in harmony on the ice, breath echoing white under the bridge, our fifteen-year-old bodies perfect and young under winter clothes, warm from skating and singing, trees along the ridge a black lace picket fence against a plume of orange like a comet’s tail where the sun had been.
Remember climbing the hill, already dark, and stopping to hear trees shake their branches, how we’d enter your parents’ warm house in a daze of images.
Remember once, mauve and yellow tulips on the dining room table, remember the music when we said play those colours and turned Bach’s “Anna Magdalena” the colour of yellow, the colour of mauve.
Remember that October, standing in your farm’s back field, half a mile apart, while daylight collapsed under the weight of darkness, and trees thick with burning leaves shouldered the stars. Music emerged from those moments, from air, like a room’s white dimension in the window at nightfall.
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Any discovery of form is a moment of memory, existing as the historical moment—alone, and existing in history—linear, in music, in the sentence. Each poem, each piece remembers our bodies, the way man and woman in their joining remember each other before they were separate.
It’s over twenty-five years and every love poem says how your music and my words are the same: praising the common air, the motive, the memory.
To praise memory is to praise the body.
And I find myself describing the joining of hips and eyes, the harbours of thighs and lips,
as the singing of two small bodies in a dark ravine, as two small bodies holding up the night sky in a winter field.
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hawkeyefierce · 1 year ago
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it’s all been done
it’s all been done
it’s all been done before
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siammybaby · 3 months ago
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TORONTO BEACH
Je crois j’ai trouvé mon petit spot pour me vider la tête
De ne plus penser à rien
Mais seulement moi
C’est devenue un de mes endroits préférés à Toronto
Les gens vont me voir souvent dans mes vidéos
Que j’admire cet endroit
C’est là où les inspirations arrivent
Il suffit que je mets mon casque
Et je lance ma chanson préférée
C’est comme une poésie
Si la poésie était un paysage
Ça serait Toronto Beach
Je pourrais passer mes journées et mes nuits ici
C’est là où je me sens mieux
Je veux que donner que de l’amour et de la poésie
J’ai envie de raconter ma vie comme un personnage principal
Toronto beach tu es ma place préférée
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iaintyourbabe · 5 months ago
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I kept waiting for action
Without a scene being set
And I got upset when it was just me
Monologues and all
A confession into thin air
Because if the scene contained dialogue
Then we would be thick as thieves
But the scene was set
It was just me, myself all along
With you directing the ending
-Tjana
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sincerelymarner · 4 months ago
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zinc, mary soon lee
for @simmyfrobby's periodic table poetry series
(photo credits: mark blinch / mark blinch / mark blinch / kevin sousa)
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