All Library locations will be closed Monday, June 19th for the Juneteenth holiday.
She fell on top of me, burrowed her face in my fluff, hands smacking the down inside of me, legs kicking, wriggling, growing restless at the foot. Every night I gave her comfort, she told me her secrets, whispered in the meekest of voices of the taunts and the teases and the tortures of the day.
Does it end where it all began?
Since the death of my mother
Something inside is broken
from deep deep
I feel like I’ve sinned
Thoughts ramble through my head
I feel like I too want to be dead
Yes it’s wrong
it’s not right
A soldier dies on the battlefield on a beach in Normandy just barely old enough to shave and
just off papas knee buried in the ground with theses final words
Dear ma and pa im doin fine here overseas I send my love from me and John and the
“A breath, a sigh, she closes her eyes,
hearing the forest saunas around her,
yonder the sum set the sky on fire,
the stars/lew higher...”
While walking in the art store today.
I overheard a color pencil box
With many things to say
“I don’t like the Red,” said the Orange
and Green said, “Nor do I”
and no one likes Yellow
But no one knows just why
I’m a new york kid. there i was born and raised. outside on the block that’s where i spent most of my days, but now my vision’s in a haze. my mom said, what i’m going through is just a phase, but i know now that’s not the case.
We are all rugged people,
and through out soft degrees.
Many a mean have shouted,
Many have fallen too their knees.
We think we’re at war with others,
But wrong because we are at war
A war that has long begun
It was raining outside, and our weary Traveler was on a gravel road, walking. With a large sack slung over his shoulder, he crept along at quite a slow pace, monotonously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He had no cloak, and so he was drenched in the cold rain.
Come with me into these memories
Where grown-ups are not allowed
Across the deep concrete river
Where in giant hollow owl’s eyes
You can hear the hidden bears’ growls.
Beneath high branches curved like arches
Their leaves intertwined
Snow is deceiving. It likes to play hard-to-get. Like so many other things in life, I have developed a love-hate relationship with the whole idea of snow. The “dog days” of summer reach their finale, the leaves start falling, and everyone excitedly awaits the first snowfall.
Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there were two kingdoms. The Thintassia Kingdom was led by King Blue Man, and all of the people tried to be like King Blue Man and eat as little as possible. “Skinny is beautiful, skinny is beautiful,” the King would exclaim; the crowd would go wild.
“Davidson! That tree is flying! It’s going to crash into your house,” Gary warned me. “You’re right, Mr. Franklin, and here, it’s coming in for a landing,” I replied with calm reserve.
There once was a man named Ed. Ed had a wife and three kids and worked at a very successful job. His life was perfect. But as time went on, his children grew up and went off on their own to form their own families, but soon Ed became a grandfather. And once again, life was perfect.
It was quiet like it always was. Not dead quiet, you could still hear the waves and the insects. I sat on the beach, my hands clasped around my knees. I had buried the last of them in the cavern, then sealed it shut. Now it was just me.
Dear Mr. Uber-Goth,
I don’t pretend to understand the intricacies within the mind of any literary genius, but I’ve got to let it out...your endless pessimism is bringing me down.
I was blind and you opened my eyes.
I was blind to deceivers, and you showed
me them. I was blind to true love, and you showed
me it. I was blind to forgiveness and you did it for me.
I was blind to the truth, and you revealed it all. I was blind
Get behind the eight ball she said, which I had yet to understand. She said
it meant to look ahead to the future. I sat
there contemplating this saying for a while, and as I fell into
a deep slumber my thoughts ran free. Thinking of our future--
In solitude of the night, with help of
the early storm, you find peace and
utter relaxation. Tearing down the
limits of your imagination, making
room for the inspiration, the
imaginative power of your soul.