When I roll towards you at dawn,
I can’t see you in the fog.
We’ve simply memorized each other.
I read a story about a giant
who couldn’t see his tiny wife
for all the clouds
drifting around his huge, sad head.
He’d stroke the tops of fir trees
thinking he’d found her hair.
In another version, his wife
turned into an egret,
her strong wings
brushing her husband’s face;
then she fell into the sea
weighted down by his immense tear.
Let me tell you this:
I miss your shadow, too,
but I know it waits above the fog
black as the shadow of the oak
you saw in your dream
when you woke up, almost happy.
I know our town’s invisible.
The pilots on the way to Alaska
think they’re over the sea.
Even if they glimpsed a light
through a rift in the clouds
they’d call it a ship
loaded with timber for the south.
Still, I hear those planes.
Last night on the satellite map
I saw land without clouds.
Remember, I groped for your hand.
Suppose the men go barefoot?
Suppose the women own fans?” —Maura Stanton, “Visibility” (via Read a Little Poetry)
and they are like all other words,
ordinary, breathing out of lips,
moving toward you in a straight line.
Later they shatter
and rearrange themselves. They spell
something else hidden in the muscles
of the face, something the throat wanted to say.” —Ruth Stone, from “The Wound” (via weissewiese)
Take note that the more you crave for a relationship and seek for one, the greater chances you have of getting yourself into a relationship that will hurt you in the end. Learn to be independent, and make yourself happy before you go out and try to make others happy. Being single isn’t that bad.