“I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.”
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.”
— Charles Bukowski
Rowing the campground up by the lake where we swam.
We were hunting for snakes,
but we couldn't find them.
Surrounded by nothing,
but the nothing's surrounded by us.
But it's just me in my room,
with my eyes shut.
When I was seventeen,
my mother said to me
instead of the horses, grazing along.
I was having fun.
We were all having fun.
My brain kicking faster than I can,
but not fast enough.
Who is there to talk to
that won't lock me up?
At least God doesn't judge me by the thoughts that I find,
the snakes I couldn't find,
I don't want to find.
When I was seventeen,
my mother said to me
instead of the horses, grazing along.
I was having fun.
We were all having fun.
We were hunting for snakes,
but we couldn't find them.
Surrounded by nothing,
but the nothing's surrounded by us.
But it's just me in my room,
with my eyes shut.
When I was seventeen,
my mother said to me
"Don't stop imagining. The day that you do is the day that you die."
Now I pull a wanton carriage,instead of the horses, grazing along.
I was having fun.
We were all having fun.
My brain kicking faster than I can,
but not fast enough.
Who is there to talk to
that won't lock me up?
At least God doesn't judge me by the thoughts that I find,
the snakes I couldn't find,
I don't want to find.
When I was seventeen,
my mother said to me
"Don't stop imagining. The day that you do is the day that you die."
Now I pull a wanton carriage,instead of the horses, grazing along.
I was having fun.
We were all having fun.
youth lagoon- seventeen
❝ You will remember that leaping stream
where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
and sometimes a bird, wearing water
and slowness, its winter feathers.
You will remember those gifts from the earth:
indelible scents, gold clay,
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
magical thorns like swords.
You’ll remember the bouquet you picked,
shadows and silent water,
bouquet like a foam-covered stone.
That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there. ❞
where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
and sometimes a bird, wearing water
and slowness, its winter feathers.
You will remember those gifts from the earth:
indelible scents, gold clay,
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
magical thorns like swords.
You’ll remember the bouquet you picked,
shadows and silent water,
bouquet like a foam-covered stone.
That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there. ❞
Pablo Neruda
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