Charles Bukowski on Depression

Ted Hughes on Thinking

This is an oldie but a goodie that I listen to frequently. I can invent any kind of pig my thoughts dare. My pig could suddenly come back to life, be magical, glow florescent blue, be sinister... This lecture is like comfort food, to me. All my best thoughts flee before the page is written.

Louise Gluck

The Pond

Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.


Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together. Our ponies
grazed on the hill, they were gray
with white markings. Now they graze
with the dead who wait
like children under their granite breastplates,
lucid and helpless:


The hills are far away. They rise up
blacker than childhood.
What do you think of, lying so quietly
by the water? When you look that way I want
to touch you, but do not, seeing
as in another life we were of the same blood.

from The House on the Marshland. © 1975 Louise Glüc

A Hymn by Fanny Howe : Poetry Magazine

A Hymn by Fanny Howe : Poetry Magazine

I'll never be able to say it better than this, well, maybe with my hands and mouth.

How to Kill a Living Thing by Eibhlin Nic Eochaidh

This poem was posted as a creative way to use my voice to protest & express my distress over the level of hatred, sexism, misogyny, and misinformation people use to justify violence against others, especially, women and the LBGT community. For further reading, please see chapter 2 of Miguel Ruiz's The Four Agreements: Be Impeccable with Your Word.  


Neglect it
Criticize it to its face
Say how it kills the light
Traps all the rubbish
Bores you with its green

Continually
Harden your heart
Then
Cut it down close
To the root as possible

Forget it
For a week or a month
Return with an axe
Split it with one blow
Insert a stone

To keep the wound wide open