( via / via )

My sequel to a tweet.

"Aoibh’s Children in Expectation

There is a swan-crossed sea
   where exiles flew to die,
where grey waves wash the greyer shore
   in ponderous lullaby.

An old king’s children cry
   their swan tears to the sea,
wandering on their wasted shore
   through long eternity,

for they cannot restore
   their ruptured dignity,
but stretch their savaged wings toward sky,
   above the swan-crossed sea."

--Sarah Spivey (via @amjuster)

Whistlejacket.

"I am speaking of the first night, when I leave my apartment almost breathless, searching for someone to show the poem to."

- Jack Spicer, AFTER LORCA (via @aliner)

Welcome Home.