lisa wiseman photography

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"They keep telling me seeing things that aren’t technically there
is called ‘disturbed cognitive functioning.’ I call it
'having a superpower.'”

Neil Hilborn is luminous.

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When I say I am crying what I really mean
is that I want to cry but can’t. Instead
of dying, the jellyfish simply ceases
to move.
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This is perfect. just perfect. Thank you Neil Hilborn for this brilliant piece of writing and diction.

buttonpoetry:

Neil Hilborn - “Mating Habits of the North American Hipster”

"Now she is taking her Macbook, and his Macbook, and her other Macbook, and her book on Macbooks, and arranging them in a circle. The male deems this an acceptable mating habitat, and amidst the Apple products, he mounts her—indifferently!"

The only poem to receive a perfect score at Rustbelt.

(via neilhilborn)

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I was dead, then alive.
Weeping, then laughing.
The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like and evening star.
— Rumi
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Love is so short. Forgetting is so long.
— Pablo Neruda
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The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

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A while back I was lucky enough to photograph the exceptional Kay Ryan for Newsweek when she became the United States poet laureate for the 2008-2010 term. Meeting her was a luminous moment in my life both professionally personally (I’ve always been a closeted poetry lover/writer). Just last week Kay was selected to receive the Pulitzer for her work The Best of It: New and Selected Poems which has received rave reviews. She is so very deserving and her poetry is perfectly sparse, exacting and beautiful. Below is one of my favorites and you can read more of her work here:

Home to Roost

The chickens
are circling and
blotting out the
day. The sun is
bright, but the
chickens are in
the way. Yes,
the sky is dark
with chickens,
dense with them.
They turn and
then they turn
again. These
are the chickens
you let loose
one at a time
and small—
various breeds.
Now they have
come home
to roost—all
the same kind
at the same speed.

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The Kiss

She pressed her lips to mind.
⎯a typo

How many years I must have yearned
for someone’s lips against mind.
Pheromones, newly born, were floating
between us. There was hardly any air.

She kissed me again, reaching that place
that sends messages to toes and fingertips,
then all the way to something like home.
Some music was playing on its own.

Nothing like a woman who knows
to kiss the right thing at the right time,
then kisses the things she’s missed.
How had I ever settled for less?

I was thinking this is intelligence,
this is the wisest tongue
since the Oracle got into a Greek’s ear,
speaking sense. It’s the Good,

defining itself. I was out of my mind.
She was in. We married as soon as we could.