My Hobbies
To meet you underwater.
To faint inside a lake.
To spit into a bowl.
To cry into your spit.
To piss upon the dirt.
To love you like this.
—Chessy Normile
My wife just said that this 1962 poem by Plath more or less invented and set the tone, sonically and atmospherically, for nearly all of what you might call contemporary lyric. A staggering, deeply enviable poem. Proof that often you write well by looking at something very hard
@brecht_dp Either I will forget I ever submitted or I will chase a response until either I give up or the sun explodes. and even then my atoms will be writing poetry with dust
The truly tortured poets, the real sickos, don't think stuff like "my bf reminds me of a tattooed golden retriever." They think stuff like "what if you were grieving and then there was a weird bird"