Sublime
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“Sweet keys of sun in the dusk of the toaster,” Anna said one morning at breakfast. I looked up at her, briefly, but made nothing of it, distracted as I was with the morning paper. The day continued quietly as we went about our routines, and other things she said didn’t cause concern. But in the afternoon, as she came in from the garden and wiped
... See moreTessa McWatt • Vital Signs
A. E. Housman
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
My small fish,
You sleep
with the creek
running through you. though
you might think
you are
falling
behind,
no, it’s not true—
You sleep
with the creek
running through you.
i sit under the crooked yew
and watch you in the gentle waves
rain melts into your stream
Water Snaking, body snaking
Serpentine winding, undulating
Swerving, swelling
Sinuous sinew
diap
... See moreI walk to Salvatore’s Foreign Books on Mount Auburn Street. I worked there six years ago, in 1991. After Paris and before Pennsylvania and Albuquerque and Oregon and Spain and Rhode Island. Before Luke. Before my mother went to Chile with four friends and was the one who didn’t come back.
-Lily King, Writers & Lovers
So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse
in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat,
slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel
and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely.
Oh taste how sweet and tart
the red juice is, how the tiny seeds
crunch between your teeth.
- Ellen Bass, “Relax”
I’m not long for this world. I’m not long for this world. That’s something I grew accustomed to hearing my grandmother avow while waiting for instance for the kettle to boil.
