Jenny Kissed Me

on icarus.

(Attributed to Oscar Wilde//Sigmund Freud- Interpretation of Dreams//@meanwhilepoetry//Herbert James Draper- Lament for Icarus//Joseph Campbell//Hozier- Sunlight//Rainer Maria Rilke- The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge//Mary Oliver- The Sun//Vincent Van Gogh- The Sower//Matthew Ward- The Collected Stories//Florence and The Machine- Falling//Billy Collins- The Art of Drowning//Renè Milot- The Fall of Icarus//Hozier- I,Carrion (Icarrian)//Virginia Woolf- The Waves//J. Bengt- Icarus Flew//??)

i have so much rage in me one day i think i will explode. i dont think i know how to forgive as much as i know how to forget

I ate stickly sweet dates out of a plastic bag today. With cold fingers, looking out at a morning sky that'd been cloudy for weeks.

For legal reasons, pretend this is not a confession. [x]

how’s that house that raised you?

bread so tasty. bread so nice. toast it once. toast it twice.

Precious

The puppy is no longer young but he is still small and fits in the crook of my arm like a sleeping babe all sleep-warm and honey-slow blinking up at me with wide black eyes.

I hold his tiny face in my cupped careful palms press a kiss into the wisp-light fur at the nape of his neck and tell him like a vow: You are so good and so precious and so beloved.

And a soft, gentle thing in the cavern of my chest slowly rises to reply heartbeat-quiet: We are. We are. We are.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy