I still love you like an arsonist
When that glassblower put his lips to
the glowing pipe
and I followed his breath into
I understood grace
Dear New Orleans,
You gave me swelter and melody and
staircase after the longest winter of my life
You are where I forgave myself
I found the bird already dead
Crooked nest scattering
and for days all I saw
was that constellation of bones
Dear Aya Nappa,
I cannot hear your name
without thinking war and ship
and two moons before coastline
It was whiplash
It was awful month
It was season of flinching
I won’t be coming back
When I think of my future self
She is walking your piazza
wearing something yellow
I remember the summer songs on the radio
The car rides through the backbone
of your highways
I remember corn fields and pregnant sky
and always a thunderstorm
Thank you for the applause
Thank you for the seltzer water
the tableh player
the 3am tomato and bread
Thank you for the balcony
I forgot a scarf
a silver ring
a tube of lipstick
and courage to make a mistake
I found the ring
The rest you may keep
Forgive me my litter
my uneaten rice
my abundance of light bulbs
Forgive me my bed soft and warm
even in January
Twenty six years and you still
make me cry
With you I am always dreaming of
starlit eels and honey water and swans
bathing in fluorescent sky
I miss those colors
I bought polished pebbles from
your mall kiosks
and pretended I was Aladdin
turning the soil over
You are cherry end of cigarette
You are pulse and tunnel
Freckles and siren
How can you fit so much?
Dear Norman, Oklahoma,
No one calls me Holly anymore
I blink slept woke wanting fairytale hair
loving boys with quarterback hands
and suburban smiles
Dear Las Vegas,
I’d rather not
I came to you tumbled and spun
I came to you with 62 books
and the mistakes I’d gathered like splinters
You showed me where to sit
Nothing is as dangerous
as an unlit match
You taught us that
By beauty I meant that bridge
Those clouds and the legs my brother and I
dangled over the water
Only you know what I am capable of
When I didn’t speak
it wasn’t because I was ungrateful
I was trying not to cry
I left a part of myself in that nightclub
like some paper crane with a beating heart
She is crumpled and sleeping
Do not wake her
I ate your fruit salted
Bare fingers peeling back skin
for shrines of gold and sugar
I bruise as easily as you do
We are both anemic veins
and unbrushed hair and survivor’s
When I come to you
it will be summer
Scorching sun and a music to the
You’ll ask me
‘what took so long’
and I’ll tell you where I’ve been"
A new religious statue in the town of Davidson, N.C., is unlike anything you might see in church.
The statue depicts Jesus as a vagrant sleeping on a park bench. St. Alban’s Episcopal Church installed the homeless Jesus statue on its property in the middle of an upscale neighborhood filled with well-kept townhomes.
Jesus is huddled under a blanket with his face and hands obscured; only the crucifixion wounds on his uncovered feet give him away.
The reaction was immediate. Some loved it; some didn’t.
"One woman from the neighborhood actually called police the first time she drove by," says David Boraks, editor of DavidsonNews.net. "She thought it was an actual homeless person."
That’s right. Somebody called the cops on Jesus.
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Since you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.
(Source: circuitfry, via bumblingbookworm)
"Perhaps we’ll meet again when we’re better for each other."
Pain changes you. If you’re not careful, you become cold, hard, and you become less empathetic to the pain around you. You become numb to it and you forget that other people are hurting too.
If you can, understand that pain, and know that it’s different for other people. You understand pain and you begin to understand other people and how they deal with their pain.
Just be kind because some are not as strong as you are.
"and make death proud to take us."