midnight covers check

Sometimes
The poetry of her
Is most evident in her long legs
Her funny crooked toes
And the gorgeous sweep of her back.

Arms flung recklessly about in sleep.

And I wonder how
The world ever was

Before her.

It's really November?

There are few things

Sunnier

than a gorgeous, open-blue sky day

and a small person running
to find

the last leaves
creaking on the trees.

(mittens fly in abandon)

the wrath of mama bear

When you
(who have no children)
informed my husband
that we were lacking

(and possibly dangerous to other people we love)

about something
that isn't your CONCERN

I caught a glimpse of something I hadn't seen before

that you

are JEALOUS
and LONELY
and UNHAPPY

in your looks-so-perfect life.

And I will never look at you the same way again.

sometimes life is all Who lyrics

The sky is glass, the sea is brown
You pretend that you don't see
It's in my own hands, I know I'll cope,
You can't listen you won't hear me


How can we forgive a grievance
Prepare to walk the line
I think this heart has bled once too often,
I'm gonna make the most of my time

cabin fever

Turning my secrets
Inside out
Knowing all my flavors

Wondering how
I ever lived without you

And wondering how
I can push you away again

Because
I like
to
be

a

little

mysterious.

the manse gets the best spam

Against this sky no longer of our world.
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
At four, the spectators leave in pairs, off
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
What? What can you do?
Bronze the sky, with no
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Of meaning like these the world created by
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Across the heavens' gray.
Everywhere, utterly.
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
That patch of white at the very end of the road
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages


Vilhjalmur Stefansson was an incredible man, exploring much and learning throughout his life.

While I have no idea if he wrote the above, (and can't find any reference to him crafting words in this way) seeing the spam led me to google him and end up reading about this person I never would have known about.

I love this about the internet.

blueprint of a girl

SHE'S:
stubborn
given to imperialism
has no compunctions about taking the last piece of - whatever - left
irritating
a bit of a madam (look at my bows! my rings! watch me!)
impatient

cosy
twines her arms around my neck for hugs
and

beautiful.