Marina Vladova

Also when somebody very close to you dies slowly while you watch helplessly, nothing encourages more magical thinking. Magpies and owls. Trees lit up at sunset. The wolf hour. Everything's a damn sign.

Q: “Most hospitals + people who will lose insurance are in rural areas. If Trump & Republicans are so intent on sticking it to their own voters, why not let them?”

@aoc.bsky.social : “That’s the difference between us & Trump. I don’t care if you voted for me, I want you to have health care.”

The Light of “The Brothers Karamazov” Although Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote with wildness and urgency, he patiently insisted on asking an essential question: What are we living for?

www.newyorker.com/books/second...

Painting of a woman leaning against a rock and staring at the sea while the waves nearly touch her feet. Rocks and birds in the background. Brown, green, and white colours.

'Sleep brings no strength to me,
No power renewed to brave;
I only sail a wilder sea,
A darker wave.'
-Emily Brontë

🎨George Elgar Hicks
#BookWormSat

From @webbish6.bsky.social's book, Flare Corona: bookshop.org/a/862/9781950774920

#poem #books #writing

merwin

Beautiful | Rust & Moth Starlings have no claim to what’s called beauty except when earth flings them out in a bolt of black silk unfurling across the sky, reaching, curling back, convolving as if in a sinuous wind from one...

New #poetry from Gail Griffin: "Beautiful".

But the sea
which no one tends
is also a garden

William Carlos Williams, Asphodel, That Greeny Flower (excerpt)

Yes, and false analogy

Dorothea Grossman:

I scrub the long floorboards
in the kitchen, repeating
the motions of other women
who have lived in this house.
And when I find a long gray hair
floating in the pail,
I feel my life added to theirs. ~ jane kenyon

Jane Hirshfield (who is teaching in CWC this spring!):

jack gilbert

beautiful

moddie had always thought of herself as a great mingler, but over the past year or so she had been learning she didn’t always have the clearest view of herself. —banal nightmare, halle butler

Blessed are those who stand still in their confusion. ~brigit pegeen kelly

to love what you are

It was the hour when snow goes blue
and streetlights come on and a hare may
pause on the tree line as still as a word in a book.

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

Poetry might be defined as the clear expression of mixed feelings.

W. H. Auden