“Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last! What a task to ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One fall day I heard above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was a flock of snow geese, winging it faster than the ones we usually see, and, being the color of snow, catching the sun so they were, in part at least, golden. I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us as with a match, which is lit, and bright, but does not hurt in the common way, but delightfully, as if delight were the most serious thing you ever felt. The geese flew on, I have never seen them again. Maybe I will, someday, somewhere. Maybe I won't. It doesn't matter. What matters is that, when I saw them, I saw them as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.”—Mary Oliver, Snow Geese
as thick as the throats of our fathers
when they have already left
but leave their words behind.
our fathers write on us. all over our face is their handwriting. whether they have spelled our eyes, our mouths, or the need in our brows, we can’t help but be their poem.
how could they think they are not important. we are houses eaten by rivers because we don’t know their
smell. when we are looking all they way through ourselves, we are looking for them. how dare they just remove themselves from our eyes. we have a right to be able to recognize our father if he walking next to us on the street.
what kind of heart break is he. what night was it that he decided. what did the moon look like. was he hungry. so hungry, that he would give me up. give us up. how do they give us up so easily. so willingly they take out their voice and break us from it, forget, and eat mist and guilt until we are a dream.
Tumblr and Yahoo Executives in a Boardroom
They want to acquire us for a billion dollars but what are their thoughts on a billion dollars—on the internet as a creative platform? but what are their thoughts on focusing on a billion dollars—on bloggers as the primary concern? How will they fix the billion dollars—the technical foundations of the billion dollars—the website? Will they make us a billion dollars—a better company? We need this. We need a billion dollars—we need Yahoo. For a billion dollars—for tumblr. For our billion dollars—for our users.
Sometimes I feel like,
I am doing a cameo,
Pop in wave at the camera,
Then leave without meeting any fans,
Other times I feel like the host,
On a crappy talk show,
Stuck behind the desk or on a couch,
Shaking hands with people,
I would never associate with otherwise,
Having to smile and make nice,
I don’t like either role,
Can I be the camera man instead?