#mary oliver
Is any body else a Little bit nauseououauauauooos
Is any body else a Little bit nauseououauauauooos
“(…) summer opened its green harbors the field was nothing but flowers, flowers, flowers, from shore to shore”— Mary Oliver, from Prince Buzzard in “Evidence: Poems By Mary Oliver”
“Love Sorrow” by Mary Oliver
Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not soutterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a momentby herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow.
“The Uses of Sorrow” by Mary Oliver
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
When Death Comes, Mary Oliver.
“—how wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints— all that glorious, temporary stuff.”— Mary Oliver, excerpt of “On Meditating, Sort Of”, in Blue Horses(viaantigonick)
Mary Oliver, from “Whistling Swans”
— Mary Oliver, Snake
Mary Oliver, from Dream Work
Mary Oliver, from Dream Work
Mary Oliver, “Messenger.” Thirst
At the River Clarion, Mary Oliver
— Mary Oliver, You are standing at the edge of the woods