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negative space

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Mary Oliver, "To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song." Blue Horses

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here it is a very long collection of poems that have squeezed my heart or even held my hand 🤍

if only the young were trees by mahmoud darwish

the meaning of birds by charles smith

song of the open road by walt whitman

at the kitchen sink by camille a. balla

every day as a wide field, every page by naomi shihab nye

feeding the worms by danusha lameris

still by marc alan di martino

do stones feel by mary oliver

you are who I love by aracelis girmay

the patience of ordinary things by pat schneider

comfort by jennifer k. sweeney

mowing by ada limón

nights in the neighborhood by linda gregg

valentine for enest mann by naomi shihab nye

there are birds here by jamaal may

winter poem by nikki giovanni

I’m feeling fabulous possibly too much so but I love it by mary oliver

shoulders by naomi shihab nye

entrance by rainer maria rilke

what I carried by maggie smith

like a small cafe by mahmoud darwish

another day by greg kuzma

keeping things whole by mark strand

meditations in an emergency by cameron awkward - rich

dead stars by ada limón

to the young who want to die by gwendolyn brooks

the world has need of you ellen bass

you reading this be ready by william stanford

in the country of resurrection by ada limón

the round by stanley kunitz

notes on waiting for the dog to find the perfect place to take a shit while morning cuts through the sky, fresh from another darkness by hanif abdurraqib

late summer after a panic attack by ada limón

on a train by wendy cope

good day by kait rokowski

dudes we did not go through the hassle of getting these fake ids for this jukebox to not have any springsteen by hanif abdurraqib

the cats will know by cesare pavese

the way to keep going in antartica

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“When you go out into the woods, and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever. And you look at the tree and you allow it. You see why it is the way it is. You sort of understand that it didn’t get enough light, and so it turned that way. And you don’t get all emotional about it. You just allow it. You appreciate the tree. The minute you get near humans, you lose all that. And you are constantly saying ‘You are too this, or I’m too this.’ That judgment mind comes in. And so I practice turning people into trees. Which means appreciating them just the way they are.”

— Ram Dass

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Hanif Abdurraqib, in “Why this poet sees grief as its own kind of spiritual practice”

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Megan Fernandes, from “Fabric in Tribeca,” in Good Boys

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The sun at home warms better than the sun elsewhere.

ig credit: ken_ichi1999.

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Mary Oliver, "Someday" from Red Bird

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The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)

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Mary Oliver, from “Reckless Poem,” in New And Selected Poems: Volume Two

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“I think there is a general misconception that you write poems because you “have something to say.” I think, actually, that you write poems because you have something echoing around in the bone-dome of your skull that you cannot say. Poetry allows us to hold many related tangential notions in very close orbit around each other at the same time. The “unsayable” thing at the center of the poem becomes visible to the poet and reader in the same way that dark matter becomes visible to the astrophysicist. You can’t see it, but by measure of its effect on the visible, it can become so precise a silhouette you can almost know it.”

— Rebecca Lindenberg, from Why Write Poetry? (via violentwavesofemotion)

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— Arabelle Sicardi, from “The Year in Ugliness.”

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Gabriel Rioux — Untitled  (mixed media on canvas, 2019)

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july 1973

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btw i think its so cool when my life is worse due to worker strikes because when my life is worse constantly the rest of the time its due to the corporate greed of one million random faceless corporations who are grinding up the entire planet in a meat grinder so little numbers on a screen go up and stay green or whatever the shit

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ON HANDS

Jennifer S. Cheng // Four Studies of Clasped Hands, Jacopo Guarana // Emily Palermo // Safia Elhillo // Madonna of Humility (detail), Gentile da Fabriano // Nancy Kuhl // Praying Hands, Albrecht Dürer // Mitski // J.M. Felix Magdalena // SK Osborn