April 2012
29 posts
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Sharing Poetry: Gus Simonovic, "Equator" →
sharingpoetry:
If words are the stars Poems are constellations. You need to know the figure To shape out meanings. And wherever you move every nightsky speaks a different language.
I crossed the line — and left my northern stars at that invisible border. They were confiscated by the equatorial customs…
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“What beauty. I saw clouds and their light shadows on the distant dear earth…....”
– Yuri Alekseyevich Gagarin
(via scienceisbeauty)
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The Quiet World, by Jeffrey McDaniel
kittens-everywhere:
In an effort to get people to look into each other’s eyes more, and also to appease the mutes, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long...
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marththebland:
vondell-swain:
marththebland:
vondell-swain:
galosengen:
octopusoracle:
if you think our economy is bad just be thankful you dont live in neopia
holy shit
i thought inflation was bad when I was there
it’s like postwar germany
take your wheelbarrow of neopoints to the market to buy a loaf of bread
you’re right neopets is exactly like postwar germany
there is...
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“Ladies and gentleman, we made a decision to get into this race at our kitchen...”
– Rick Santorum Drops Out: GOP Presidential Candidate Suspends 2012 Campaign (via huffingtonpost)
About time. When you campaign platform and strategies on how to solve the United States’ problems boil down to “BAN THE PORN AND THE GAYS AND THE ABORTIONS”, your days as a candidate...
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William Wordsworth, "The Sun Has Long Been Set"
sharingpoetry:
The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet Among the bushes and the trees; There’s a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, And a far-off wind that rushes, And a sound of water that gushes, And the cuckoo’s sovereign cry Fills all the hollow of the sky. Who would go `parading’ In London, `and masquerading’, On such a night of June...
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