From sunrise
to sunset
we learn to
make our way

From dusk
to dawn
we lay in
the bed we've made

We rise
to fall
That's the only
way

No one
escapes their fate
except in their dreams
while on the bed they lay

Where everything
is made right
from wrong

to the bed
of dreams
we've gone

Autumn leaves burning
In the backyard
The scent accented
By a nearby
Lilac tree

What a weird thing
Memory

Like the shack
Closed door
Dusty sneakers
On the floor

Exploring bodies
And fantasies
Galore

Don’t let the hinge bend
Keep it shut
If they don’t see
It didn’t happen
I mean…
We’re only friends

Where did all the love I gave go
When you’re young it’s effortless
So easy to give away
And by the time it’s too late
You’re searching your whole body to muster up anything to hand over
Anything to be enough
To fill you up
If all the love my heart gave is still out there
With no place to go
Pray it knows
It’s welcome back

Poetry is the weeping eye
it is the weeping shoulder
the weeping eye of the shoulder
it is the weeping hand
the weeping eye of the hand
it is the weeping soul
the weeping eye of the heel.
Oh, you friends,
poetry is not a tear
it is the weeping itself
the weeping of an uninvented eye
the tear of the eye
of the one who must be beautiful
of the one who must be happy.

by Nichita Stanescu, translated by Thomas Carlson and Vasile Poenaru

Distance is the cog wheel
on the haunted axle of my hearing,
grinding fine the deadened mind
of that unborn god
waiting to be caught
by the earth's blue speed,
and carrying in a handled urn
the plucked heart - ours,
it's beating, it's heard, it's beating, it's heard,
a sphere in wild growth -
the roads are wet with tears,
memory frail and elastic,
a sling for stones, a gondola
drowned in childlike Venice's,
a tooth yanked from the cells with a string -
down the empty socket of Vesuvius. And you exist.

by Nichita Stanescu, translated by Thomas Carlson and Vasile Poenaru

this world
will try to dim your light
yours and mine
Shine Lizzie Shine
this world
will try to slow you down
you're far far from done
Run Lizzie Run
this world
may knock you down
aim higher than the sky
Fly Lizzie Fly
this world
is not as strong as you
angels watch from above
Love Lizzie Love

The thing no one tells you about grief is that time doesn’t always heal your wounds
I am no longer 17
And I no longer go weak at the knees for you
I don’t need your praise or touch
But
I still skip your favourite songs on my playlists
Like I’m committing sweet revenge for myself at 20
Hopeless and dedicated
Like if the 4 minutes and 30 seconds of Heartbeat play one less time in your lifetime
You’ll know
And you’ll feel me at 24
Hoping it hurt you bad