i like blurry photos
and off-kilter horizons
i like old things and broken things
and abandoned places
i like pack bites from big dogs
and razor teeth on puppies
i like to see vultures in the fields
and crows in the sky
i like the smell of cloves burning
and the hissing sound of tabacco in a pipe
“How can you like that?”
is a sentence i’ve heard many a time–
and always, i like to hear it
some days, i am more alive than others
day dreams
opportunities
sweet secrets
warm homes
good friends
lemon cakes
and cinnamon rolls
red wine
and hot coffee
And I thought, as he reached down to brush the hair from my eyes, the trouble with dreaming is that we eventually wake up.
from The Year of the Monkey, by Patti Smith, 2019
from the passenger seat i watched the corn fields speed by, miles and miles of spent and golden stalks crackling against a washed out sky and in an instant it took me back, back, back to my Ohio childhood, where the corn rustles and sways with a cool autumn wind that blows eternally in my mind
He was broken
and he was beautiful
the sun kissing the edges of leaves
walks along the river
this book, Hold Still by Sally Mann
the smell of peony and rose
Johnny Cash singing, Daddy Sang Bass
the Laurel Highlands on a cool, fall morning
aveces, mi alma me duele
(sometimes, my soul hurts)
en la niebla, te siento
(in the fog, i feel you)
Amo, amas, amat, she thought. Amamus, amatis, amant. Their Latin teacher had made them march through the halls chanting conjugations. I love, you love, he, she, or it loves. It loves? That made no sense. We love. You (plural) love. They love. And then, of course, the perfect passive subjunctive – would that I had been loved – the saddest conjugation of them all.
From The Year of the Gadfly by Jennifer Miller, 2012
spanishwoods 