December By Michael Miller

december by Michael Miller

More Posts from B-luish and Others

b-luish

1 month ago

this made me cry so now i need everyone to see it

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b-luish

1 month ago

$Late Poem to My Father by Sharon Olds Suddenly I thought of you as a child in that house, the unlit rooms and the hot fireplace with the man in front of it, silent. You moved through the heavy air in your physical beauty, a boy of seven, helpless, smart, there were things the man did near you, and he was your father, the mold by which you were made. Down in the cellar, the barrels of sweet apples, picked at their peak from the tree, rotted and rotted, and past the cellar door the creek ran and ran, and something was not given to you, or something was taken from you that you were born with, so that even at 30 and 40 you set the oily medicine to your lips every night, the poison to help you drop down unconscious. I always thought the point was what you did to us as a grown man, but then I remembered that child being formed in front of the fire, the tiny bones inside his soul twisted in greenstick fractures, the small tendons that hold the heart in place snapped. And what they did to you you did not do to me. When I love you now, I like to think I am giving my love directly to that boy in the fiery room, as if it could reach him in time.$

Sharon Olds, “Late Poem to My Father”

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b-luish

1 month ago

The legacies people leave behind in you.

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.

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b-luish

1 month ago

text I'd: tried to say something

that filled my mouth

and longed to rest

in your ear.

don't dare write

it down for fear it'll

become words, just

words.

"All Texts", Viggo Mortensen

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b-luish

1 month ago

bitch this is all you’re gonna get. this life, this face, this body. you better not ‘maybe in another universe’ your way out of everything. sit your ass down and face this. go make tea and have a picnic and read a goddamn book. kiss your loved ones, send that damn text, and hug your siblings. this is all you’re gonna get.

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b-luish

1 month ago

THE YEARS All the parties you spent watching the room from a balcony where someone joined you to smoke then returned. And how it turns out no one had the childhood they wanted, and how they'd tell you this a little drunk, a little slant in less time than it took to finish a cigarette because sad things can't be explained. Behind the glass and inside, all your friends buzzed. You could feel the shape of their voices. You could tell from their eyes they were in some other place. 1999 or 2008 or last June. Of course, it's important to go to parties. To make life a dress or a drink or suede shoes someone wears in the rain. On the way home, in the car back, the night sky played its old tricks. The stars arranged themselves quietly. The person you thought of drove under them. Away from the party, (just like you) into the years. -Alex Dimitrov

the years by alex dimitrov

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b-luish

1 month ago

Leila Chatti, "Postcard from Gone"

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b-luish

1 month ago

MISS YOU. WANT TO GET NOODLES WITH YOU. DISREGARD THIS, After Gabrielle Calvocoressi, by Lev St. Valentine

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b-luish

4 weeks ago

Louise Glück, “Unpainted Door” Poems 1962-2012 / Ingmar Bergman, Bergman On Bergman Interviews With

Louise Glück, “Unpainted Door” Poems 1962-2012 / Ingmar Bergman, Bergman On Bergman interviews with Stig Bjorkman, Torsten Manns and Jonas Sima / Moonlight 2016 dir. Barry Jenkins / Fiona Apple, Second Bite interview by Craig McLean, The Guardian / Eighth Grade 2018 dir. Bo Burnham / Norman Rockwell, Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party / Anne Carson, “The Anthropology of Water” in Plainwater

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b-luish

1 month ago

“Some animals take themselves away to a private place to die, into the forest or under a raised wooden deck constructed of weather-treated pine. Are there animals that seek out the most public place to die, the greatest number of eyes to watch them lie down, roll over, stiffen? Is it true that all living creatures feel the instinct to survive, or are there ones that don’t, only we know nothing about them because they die so swiftly, in utter silence, before they can be seen and recorded?”

You Too Can Have A Body Like Mine - Alexandra Kleeman (2015)

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