I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.
Jeffrey McDaniel (via bonfiresfornobody)
Author Archives: Drunken Librarian
Hilary Scheppers is a writer, artist, and poet. California | Minnesota | Colorado | New York
Words are not just words. They are the nexus—the interface—between communication and thought.
Marilyn Jager Adams
In You The Earth – Pablo Neruda
Little,
rose,
roselet,
at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I’ll clasp you to my mouth,
but
suddenly
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you have loosened yourself like sea water:
I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes
and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.
Charley Harper: An Illustrated Life
Charley Harper
Charley Harper (August 4, 1922—June 10, 2007) was an American original. For over six decades he painted colorful and graphic illustrations of nature, animals, insects and people alike, from his home studio in Cincinnati, Ohio until he passed away in 2007 at the age of 84. Renowned New York based designer Todd Oldham rediscovered Charley’s work in 2001, and collaborated closely with him in the ensuing years; combing through his extensive archive to edit and design this stunning monograph. This coffee table tomb is a beautiful tribute to Charley Harper’s singular style, which he referred to as Minimal Realism.
Excerpt from I Heard God Laughing: Poems of Hope & Joy
A poet is someone / who can pour Light into a spoon / then raise it / to nourish / Your beautiful parched / holy mouth
By Hafiz
Books Are Flourishing – Tess Keegan
It’s hard to say whether it’s more charming or disturbing that the most rebellious thing someone my age can do is read a book. And I do not mean a chemistry textbook. I mean the ones that force you to remember nuance, the relativity of perspective, and the gorgeous way words can illuminate the truth and still sound like poetry in that secret, fiendish way of all great works.
Above all, books tether us to all the people, struggles, spirit and imagination that came before us…
Books serve as the greatest lessons that insistent perseverance toward a better day, a better self, a better society, a better world will not go overlooked. We are merely links in a very very long chain that is still trying to wrest itself from all the kinks. It has always been about the vast, inventive ways to inflict suffering inward and outward, and those courageous enough have resisted this status quo and refused to accept necessity or inevitably as a valid cause.
Books are resilience. Books are flourishing. Books are about relishing novelty and the enormous array of ideas the human mind has gleaned. Books give us the confidence to savor the bittersweet mystery of the future ablaze with chance and choice. Books…are hot.
Jubel – Klingande
Jubel by Kingande
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
Lewis Carroll Said
“I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.”
“Olive” – H.M. Scheppers
It seems to me like the forest will look more like this:
barren
an olive, on a toothpick
one side x, one side o
— O
how my brain feels
hollow, punctured.
With just a word,
he punctures me
an olive on a toothpick
flesh purses into an “O”
and I’m pitted
on my back—“X”
begs—hit me here,
my strong side,
but I lie mangled
among other pitted O’s
like a bug on its back and rolling
into others, without limbs
to move freely, without,
only to roll,
empty, blind
mouth open
O
drunken library 