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#robert wood lynn
firstfullmoon · 2 months
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Robert Wood Lynn, “Bringing a Gun to Chekhov’s House”
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geryone · 9 months
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How to Maintain Eye Contact, Robert Wood Lynn
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soracities · 3 months
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Robert Wood Lynn, "I Remember You Best as the Man", Mothman Apologia [ID'd]
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sweatermuppet · 6 months
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(The Mothman Gets High) by Robert Wood Lynn, published in Mothman Apologia
[Text ID: Yes. There is a point at which any person gets tired of knowledge. You could call this a threshold, or you could call this the point at which a person gets tired of knowledge. I'll tell you this: I've never felt further from another than when standing beside them trying to point out a star. /End ID]
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mxmollusca · 1 year
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From Mothman Apologia by Robert Wood Lynn
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I am old enough to know that feeding the birds when you own cats
is just feeding birds to your cats and yet
I told you I loved you--for a moment the cruelest thing to do
seemed like the nicest thing I could say.
You can't love everything on the food chain the same,
said my grandfather on his way to the barnyard with a gun
that for the life of me I can't remember was for a fox
or for the chickens. Seemed like a big distinction at the time
but now I'm not so sure. Everybody is bound to get hungry eventually,
even the housecats. Especially the housecats.
I KEEP HAVING THIS FALSE MEMORY by Robert Wood Lynn
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lunchboxpoems · 8 months
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THESE ARE THE RULES AND THEY HAVE BEEN THE RULES
Since before you even thought about being born,             an action through which you manifested your consent.
You agreed to give foul balls to children under 12 and             to take photos of tourists when prompted nicely and to curse                         at motorists but only under your breath.
You agreed to call your mother on all state and federal             holidays including the dumb ones.
You agreed to hold doors for strangers even the             assholes in suits who barge right through.
You agreed to kiss the boo boos of all children that             ask through stifled tears to make it better                         and you agreed to believe that it will.
You agreed to kiss every person who goes down on you             and hard and with grace even if you are still wet on their lips.
You agreed to look for lost dogs on signs             and you agreed that we are all lost dogs looking for                         each other with a series of signs.
You acknowledged that it will mostly hurt             and agreed to forget most of it that hurts the most.
You agreed that catcalling is only for cats and             you agreed to call all cats but only cats, especially                         late at night in a way that echoes up and down these streets                                     like its own kind of sign for lost dogs so that we can find you.
Don’t tell me you never asked for this—             you did a million times by now                         and you do every time you take a breath                                     and there                                                        you just did it                                     again.
ROBERT WOOD LYNN
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soulmaking · 10 days
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Robert Wood Lynn, from Mothman Apologia
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weeesi · 4 months
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what in the johnlock is this
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beguines · 1 year
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We were, once again, Orpheus's incompetence. We found everything we wanted in the past but couldn't bring it with us. We made the same mistake we always do. We were okay anyhow so we did not become wiser. Instead, we were made holy by the persistent foghorn. Or the foghorn's persistence, we weren't sure which. We were made beautiful by the act of looking each other in the mirror and asking if we were beautiful. We were made hopeful by grass growing clandestine on the roof. We were alive, most the time. We were the lingering compromise living made of the day. We chased groundhogs out of the barn and for this we apologized profusely to each other but not, for some reason, to the groundhogs. This much I loved, like the tenderness of asking for a favor without saying what it is first.
Robert Wood Lynn, "From the List of My Fears"
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cowboyseason · 5 months
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Robert Wood Lynn, “The Mothman Pronounces Appalachia”
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firstfullmoon · 7 months
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Robert Wood Lynn, “Poem with Bleating Heart”
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geryone · 9 months
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How to Maintain Eye Contact, Robert Wood Lynn
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Here, from me to you, a Robert Wood Lynn poem
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sweatermuppet · 6 months
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(The Mothman Dabbles in Etymology) by Robert Wood Lynn, published in Mothman Apologia
[Text ID: You should know I was not the first to think the word forgive implied an exchange, a deal. Bags, bills, palms. After all it means, at its root, to give completely. Or in some translations, to abandon, as in a debt or grief.
With this knowledge, I entered the world determined to prove that giving and abandonment were the same thing. All my life and now to discover they just looked alike as the shadows cast by mercy. /End ID]
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atinylittlepain · 8 months
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Mothman Apologia, Robert Wood Lynn
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