You may want something ‘practical,’ so I’ll say this: poetry and science are kin; they share a series of principal labors. Those are 1.) observation and attention 2.) reflection and memory 3.) description 4.) imagination 5.) re-seeing and discovery. Both disciplines cultivate curiosity and interrogation.

Moreover, both disciplines are highly hospitable to strangeness and surprise. We don’t acknowledge this enough in science. We aren’t taught to enjoy this enough in poetry.

We don’t have to do much to make poetry “more relevant.” We just have to let science and poetry grow and change as they do. We just have to give them enough space and support to work in solitude but talk together too.

Patrick Rosal, “Poetry Is Hospitable to Strangeness and Surprise,” published in The New York Times’ Opinion Pages (via bostonpoetryslam)

I’m not…..doingverywelllately. So I splurged on a sketchbook and some new charcoal pencils, and then I planted some basil. 


Food doesn’t taste better or worse when documented by Instagram. Laughter is as genuine over Skype as it would be sharing a sofa. Pay attention. Take in nature, hold someone’s hand, read a book. But don’t ever apologize for snapping a photo of a sunrise after a hike, or blogging about the excitement of having a crush, or updating your goodreads account. All of these things are good and should be celebrated. Smile at strangers on the sidewalk and like your friends’ selfies. It’s all good for the human spirit.

@cogitoergoblog  (via creatingaquietmind)

(via bonesymcdeadpants)

reasons why today is good: I got my first end-of-quarter bonus at work and for one brief and shining moment, I have more than enough money. I just walked to the bakery and got a still warm loaf of cheddar garlic bread. It is 75 degrees out and I’m making iced coffee, and later I’ll probably go sit in the park and read, or go to the bookstore and read, and maybe today is the day I order a copy of Megan Falley’s book After the Witch Hunt, and maybe it’s not, but either way it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

word. currently weeping in the middle of the entire contents of my closet (childhood junk, nostalgic things I need to let go of, books I have to give away, heavy hardcovers I desperately want to take back to MN but can’t afford to ship).

protip: as you contemplate your pile of possessions, also contemplate your terrible life choices, your lack of future prospects, and your profound sense of not-belonging. weep some more.