#William Matthews

[tournesoleil13]

I think he’s just a little shy 🤷‍♂️, he’s absolutely not gonna bash Francis after this

[until-i-set-him-free]

the kind of love that's most at home in the kitchen

911 s7e04 "Buck, Bothered and Bewildered"// "Cupboard love: my biggest romances always begin in the kitchen" by Ella Risbridger // 911 s7e10 "All Fall Down" // "Unlikely Lovers" from Falsettos // "Leftovers" by Trista Mateer // "A Matter of Taste" by Steve Walker // "Little Miss Why So" by The Amazing Devil // "Food" by Brenda Hillman // a waffle my best friend made for me // "Eat Up: Food, Appetite and Eating What You Want" by Ruby Tandoh // "The Horror and the Wild" by The Amazing Devil // "Onions" by William Matthews

[typewriter-worries]

How familiar it feels to feel strange,

Morningside Heights, July, William Matthews

[extollingtheeveryday]

William Matthews // "Morningside Heights, July"

[starsilversword]

2p Canada should just be normal hetalia Canada's name reversed.

William Matthews

[sugaredoleander]

Claws in Your Back by Julien Baker (I change my mind. I wanted to stay) and Favor by Julien Baker (I’d have missed you more than you missed me), and Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi (I did not want to die that day. Oh, my God. Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels. And if you don’t know then you’re lucky but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.) and What Resembles The Grave But Isn’t by Anne Boyer (sometimes dutifully falling and getting out, with perfect fortitude, saying “look at the skill and spirit with which I rise from that which resembles the grave but isn’t!”) and Resumé by Dorothy Parker (you might as well live) and Hum, Hum by Mary Oliver (Some wounds never vanish. Yet little by little I learned to love my life.) and The Orange by Wendy Cope (I love you. I’m glad I exist.) and Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro (I love you. I want us both to eat well.) and Onions by William Matthews (How easily happiness begins by dicing onions.) and And When You Survive This by Peter Chiykowski (On the far shore of this calamity, you are looking back in admiration at yourself right now, muddling through with grace and grit and grim determination, and you are smiling because you know the secret of how you survive this, and one day, you will have the chance to share it.) and Hope In Every Box by Winston Rowntree (Tomorrow is another world, just a few feet away but far enough to always give you hope. I hope I'll see you there.) and Morning Love Poem by Tara Skurtu (It’s hard to say I need you enough. Today I did. Walked into your morning shower fully clothed. All the moments we stop ourselves just because we might feel embarrassed or impractical, or get wet.) and To Be Alive by Gregory Orr (That’s crudely put, but… If we’re not supposed to dance, Why all this music?) and Prayer for Werewolves by Stephanie Burt (you have friends, who are not going anywhere. Please stay here.) and On Seatbelts and Sunsets by Hanif Abdurraqib (God, I wear seatbelts and visit the graves of my friends in spring to kick away the dirt from winter. God, it is just us talking now, and I worry about everything I can’t control. God, can you tell me how much longer I’ll get to be alive and in love. God, I am sorry for the times I didn’t want to stick around. God, there is a scroll of things I have taken for granted in order to survive this long, and it is endless. And it is maybe too late to want to live forever after everything I’ve seen and done. But) and (i know we’re both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what i’m saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when it’s raining. what i’m saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what i’m saying is that i’m here for you and if the train comes please move.) by Rowan Perez and The Letter by Linda Gregg (I’m not feeling strong yet, but I am taking good care of myself.) 

[sashayed]

The Bear at the Dump

Amidst the too much that we buy and throw    away and the far too much we wrap it in,    the bear found a few items of special interest—a honeydew rind, a used tampon,    the bone from a leg of lamb. He’d rock back    lightly onto his rear paws and slash open a plastic bag, and then his nose— jammed almost with a surfeit of rank and likely information, for he would pause— and then his whole dowsing snout would    insinuate itself a little way inside. By now he’d have hunched his weight    forward slightly, and then he’d snatch it back,    trailed by some tidbit in his teeth. He’d look    around. What a good boy am he. The guardian of the dump was used to this and not amused. “He’ll drag that shit    every which damn way,” he grumbled who’d dozed and scraped a pit to keep that shit    where the town paid to contain it. The others of us looked and looked. “City    folks like you don’t get to see this often,”    one year-round resident accused me. Some winter I’ll bring him down to learn    to love a rat working a length of subway    track. “Nope,” I replied. Just then the bear    decamped for the woods with a marl of grease    and slather in his mouth and on his snout,    picking up speed, not cute (nor had he been    cute before, slavering with greed, his weight    all sunk to his seated rump and his nose stuck    up to sift the rich and fetid air, shaped    like a huge, furry pear), but richly fed on the slow-simmering dump, and gone    into the bug-thick woods and anecdote.

William Matthews from Time and Money, 1995

[lascitasdelashoras]

Poetas, citas

[tail-feathers]

William Matthews, b. 1949

Sagebrush Sea

Watercolor, 21 1/2 x 28 1/2 inches

[aemperatrix]

William Matthews

[misserinmarie]

I love William Matthews’s idea—he says that revision is not cleaning up after the party; revision is the party! That’s the fun of it, making it right, getting the best words in the best order.

Billy Collins, The Art of Poetry

[avolan-underscore]

CHECK OUT MY DRAWING PLEAAASE :)

[theautisticjedi]

THIS IS THE FUNNIEST PHOTO HE LOOKS PISSED

[seasunandstar]

Vermin

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" What child cries out, ‘An exterminator!’? One diligent student in Mrs. Taylor’s class will get an ant farm for Christmas, but he’ll not see industry; he’ll see dither. "The ant sets an example for us all," wrote Max Beerbohm, a master of dawdle, "but it is not a good one." These children don’t hope to outlast the doldrums of school only to heft great weights and work in squads and die for their queen. Well, neither did we. And we knew what we didn’t want to be: the ones we looked down on, the lambs of God, blander than snow and slow to be cruel.

-- William Matthews, from The New Yorker

[thasallweare]

William Matthews b. 1949 Very Cow

[oldsardens]

William Matthews - Matador