#jane mead

[firstfullmoon]

Jane Mead, from “I wonder if I will miss the moss”

#w #poetry #jane mead #the earth remembered me she took me back so tenderly

[apoemaday]

Bach, Winter

by Jane Mead

Bach must have known how something flutters away when you turn to face the face you caught sideways in a mirror in a hall at dusk and how the smell of apples in a bowl can stop the heart from beating, for an instant, between sink and stove in the dead of winter when stars of ice have spread across the windows and everything is perfectly still until you catch the sound of something lost and shy beating its wings against those darkening stars. And then: music.

#poetry #jane mead #bach #winter

[llovelymoonn]

richard siken interviews jane mead \\ edward gorey cover art for raymond t. mcnally’s a clutch of vampires \\ segovia amil death season \\ josef mandl the ghost \\ kathryn hunter third eye (2020) \\ friedrich nietzsche beyond good and evil \\ via @scaryhalloweenbitch​ \\ don crewe existentialist criminology \\ ?? manifestation (1903) \\ ?? \\ louise erdrich the king of the owls 

kofi

#do with this what you will #richard siken #jane mead #mine #my webweaving #webweaving #web weaving #webweave #webs #web #ww #parallel #parallels #parallelism #compilation #compilations #intertextuality #intertext #comparative #on self #comparatives #a clutch of vampires #edward gorey #raymond mcnally #raymond t mcnally #raymond t. mcnally #segovia amil #on death #kathryn hunter #josef mandl

[queenmakings]

cassian andor x 'i wonder if i will miss the moss' (jane mead)

#cassian andor #andor #rogue one #maarva andor #jane mead #mine #sighhhh....

[smokeandsteam]

taking up space

no. 3 andrea gibson, “i sing the body electric, especially when my power is out” // no. 4 mary oliver, “wild geese”

#taking up space #existential #nature #thecryptonaturalist #cryptonature #space #being #caitlyn siehl #andrea gibson #mary oliver #nikka ursula #jane mead #faery ring #fossils #poetry older than words #the universe is an ongoing explosion #and then writes about it #it hurts to become #lets the soft animal of your body love what it loves #alcameso #smokeandsteam #smokeandsteam words #poetry

[ashtrayfloors]

I am not equal to my longing. Somewhere there should be a place the exact shape of my emptiness— there should be a place responsible for taking one back. The river, of course, has no mercy— it just lifts the dead fish toward the sea.

Of course, of course.

What I meant when I said “soul” was that there should be a place.

On the far bank the warehouse lights blink red, then green, and all the yellow machines with their rusted scoops and lifts sit under a thin layer of sunny frost.

—Jane Mead, from “Concerning That Prayer I Cannot Make” (VQR, Spring 1989)

#quotations #poetry #jane mead #prayer #this fucking poem

[insilverrolled]

I Wonder If I Will Miss the Moss

By Jane Mead [x]

I wonder if I will miss the moss after I fly off as much as I miss it now just thinking about leaving.

There were stones of many colors. There were sticks holding both lichen and moss. There were red gates with old hand-forged hardware. There were fields of dry grass smelling of first rain then of new mud. There was mud, and there was the walking, all the beautiful walking, and it alone filled me— the smells, the scratchy grass heads. All the sleeping under bushes, once waking to vultures above, peering down with their bent heads the way they do, caricatures of interest and curiosity. Once too a lizard. Once too a kangaroo rat. Once too a rat. They did not say I belonged to them, but I did.

Whenever the experiment on and of my life begins to draw to a close I’ll go back to the place that held me and be held. It’s O.K. I think I did what I could. I think I sang some, I think I held my hand out.

#jane mead #death #mortality #nature

[headlightsforever]

Jane Mead from To the Wren: New and Collected Poems

#jane mead #poetry #poem #literature #quotes #lit #poet #quote #w #writing

[aansoo]

Jane Mead

#jane mead #concerning that prayer i cannot make #poetry #to remember #found this in my twitter messages from january 2020...

[playerkingsley]

#poetry #jane mead

[cityofchapin]

from "Substance Abuse Trial" by Jane Mead

from: "Substance Abuse Trial"The evidence isa red river, mounting.It wants to carry youaway like an old chairsome fisherman forgotto take home. And I wantto shout: listen—this manis my father.I love him. Mead, Jane. “Substance Abuse Trial.” On Being, 17 Feb. 2020, onbeing.org/programs/jane-mead-substance-abuse-trial/.

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#Jane Mead #National Poetry Month #On Being #Poem #Poetry #Substance Abuse Trial

[nsantand]

Jane Mead – Eu me pergunto se sentirei falta do musgo

Quando eu voar para longe, me pergunto / se sentirei falta do musgo como agora sinto, / só de pensar em partir. (...)

Quando eu voar para longe, me perguntose sentirei falta do musgo como agora sinto,só de pensar em partir. Havia pedras de muitas cores.Havia gravetos hospedandolíquen e musgo.Havia portões vermelhos com antiquadasferragens forjadas à mão.Havia campos de capim secocom o cheiro das primeiras chuvase então de lama fresca. Havia lama,e havia a caminhada,toda a bela caminhada,e só isso já me…

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#Jane Mead #Nelson Santander

[havingapoemwithyou]

[i wonder if i will miss the moss]  by Jane Mead

#Jane Mead #poetry #poem

[llovelymoonn]

jane mead the geese

#jane mead #the geese #poem #poems #poetry

[poem-today]

A poem by Jane Mead

Bach, Winter

Bach must have known – how something flutters away when you turn to face the face you caught sideways in a mirror, in a hall, at dusk –

and how the smell of apples in a bowl can stop the heart from beating, for an instant, between sink and stove in the dead of winter when stars

of ice have spread across the windows and everything is perfectly still until you catch the sound of something lost and shy beating its wings.

And then: music.

Jane Mead (1958-2019)

#jane mead #american poetry #bach #winter

[seaanimalonland]

I Wonder if I will Miss the Moss | Jane Mead

I wonder if I will miss the moss after I fly off as much as I miss it now just thinking about leaving.

There were stones of many colors. There were sticks holding both lichen and moss. There were red gates with old hand-forged hardware. There were fields of dry grass smelling of first rain then of new mud. There was mud, and there was the walking, all the beautiful walking, and it alone filled me— the smells, the scratchy grass heads. All the sleeping under bushes, once waking to vultures above, peering down with their bent heads the way they do, caricatures of interest and curiosity. Once too a lizard. Once too a kangaroo rat. Once too a rat. They did not say I belonged to them, but I did.

Whenever the experiment on and of my life begins to draw to a close I’ll go back to the place that held me and be held. It’s O.K. I think I did what I could. I think I sang some, I think I held my hand out.

via: https://ordinaryplots.substack.com/p/jane-meads-i-wonder-if-i-will-miss

#poetry #Jane Mead