Take a photo of a barcode or cover
4.01 AVERAGE
4.01 AVERAGE
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
sometimes you read book for a reading challenge and you are about a hundred miles off from the target audience and that is okay! popsugar y’all were foul for having “a book with the word “leap” in the title” on your list this year.
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Just some of my favourite bits:
O newborn suit
with a smiling worm over the heart, it is
forbidden to love where we are not loved.
---
Have faith,
old heart. What is living, anyway,
but dying.
---
No Doors There Are to This Stronghold
Yet Robbers Break In and Steal the Gold.
---
Once, each summer, I howl,
and draw myself back, out of there, where
desire and joy, where ignorance, where
touch and the ideal, where unwilled yet willful
blindness—once a year, I have mercy,
I let myself go down where I have lived, and then,
hand over hand, I pull myself back up
---
it can only be known and borne, it cannot be
turned into anything fruitful or sweet,
but just be faced, as what it was,
just be eaten, portion of flesh and salt.
---
and remember how he hated it
when I tried to get him to talk to me,
tried with a certain steadiness—
nagged him to reveal himself—
maybe these desserts were not only gifts,
but bribes or stops, to close my mouth
an hour on sweetness.
---
I do not let
go of him yet, but hold the string
and watch my idea of him pull away
and stay, and pull away, my silver kite
---
And you couldn’t say,
could you, that the touch you had from me
was other than the touch of one
who could love for life—whether we were suited
or not—for life, like a sentence. And now that I
consider, the touch that I had from you
became not the touch of the long view, but like the
tolerant willingness of one
who is passing through.
---
and for an instant
he’s alive toward me, a gem of sea of
pond in his eye. Then that retreat into himself,
which always moved me, as if there were
a sideways gravity, in him, toward some
vanishing point
---
And then there is the spring park,
damp as if freshly peeled, sweet
greenhouse, green cemetery with no
dead in it—except, in some shaded
woods, under some years of leaves and
rotted cones, the body of a warbler
like a whole note fallen from the sky—my old
love for him, like a songbird’s rib cage picked clean.
---
I believed in him, he believed in me, then we
grew, and grew, I grieved him, he grieved me,
I completed with him, he completed with me, we
made whole cloth together, we succeeded,
we perfected what lay between him and me,
I did not deceive him, he did not deceive me,
I did not leave him, he did not leave me,
I freed him, he freed me.
O newborn suit
with a smiling worm over the heart, it is
forbidden to love where we are not loved.
---
Have faith,
old heart. What is living, anyway,
but dying.
---
No Doors There Are to This Stronghold
Yet Robbers Break In and Steal the Gold.
---
Once, each summer, I howl,
and draw myself back, out of there, where
desire and joy, where ignorance, where
touch and the ideal, where unwilled yet willful
blindness—once a year, I have mercy,
I let myself go down where I have lived, and then,
hand over hand, I pull myself back up
---
it can only be known and borne, it cannot be
turned into anything fruitful or sweet,
but just be faced, as what it was,
just be eaten, portion of flesh and salt.
---
and remember how he hated it
when I tried to get him to talk to me,
tried with a certain steadiness—
nagged him to reveal himself—
maybe these desserts were not only gifts,
but bribes or stops, to close my mouth
an hour on sweetness.
---
I do not let
go of him yet, but hold the string
and watch my idea of him pull away
and stay, and pull away, my silver kite
---
And you couldn’t say,
could you, that the touch you had from me
was other than the touch of one
who could love for life—whether we were suited
or not—for life, like a sentence. And now that I
consider, the touch that I had from you
became not the touch of the long view, but like the
tolerant willingness of one
who is passing through.
---
and for an instant
he’s alive toward me, a gem of sea of
pond in his eye. Then that retreat into himself,
which always moved me, as if there were
a sideways gravity, in him, toward some
vanishing point
---
And then there is the spring park,
damp as if freshly peeled, sweet
greenhouse, green cemetery with no
dead in it—except, in some shaded
woods, under some years of leaves and
rotted cones, the body of a warbler
like a whole note fallen from the sky—my old
love for him, like a songbird’s rib cage picked clean.
---
I believed in him, he believed in me, then we
grew, and grew, I grieved him, he grieved me,
I completed with him, he completed with me, we
made whole cloth together, we succeeded,
we perfected what lay between him and me,
I did not deceive him, he did not deceive me,
I did not leave him, he did not leave me,
I freed him, he freed me.
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
emotional
reflective
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced