( me / me )

"...the whole poem is filled with references ranging from Coleridge and George Meredith to the country music guitarist Chet Atkins, and it's a great example of one can do by reviving an old meter."

"The Wreck

But what lovers we were, what lovers,
even when it was all over—

the bull-black, deadweight wines that we swung
towards each other rang and rang

like bells of blood, our own great hearts.
We slung the drunk boat out of port

and watched our sober unreal life
unmoor, a continent of grief;

the candlelight strange on our faces
like the tiny silent blazes

and coruscations of its wars.
We blew them out and took the stairs

into the night for the night's work,
stripped off in the timbered dark,

gently hooked each other on
like aqualungs, and thundered down

to mine our lovely secret wreck.
We surfaced later, breathless, back

to back, and made our way alone
up the mined beach of the dawn."

--Don Paterson

"Rather than give it to you straight, the paper of record has opted, as ever, to give you its patented strain of prestige clickbait."

"A lifetime is not so long. You cannot wait for a tool without blood on it."

- Joseph Beuys via @everysongiveeve

"Charitable frisson is also index-linked to how bad the work is, a trend that has effectively become a paraphilia now." (via @amitmajmudar)