end of line.

homo homini lupus est

Skip to content
  • Home
  • Me
  • poetry.
Search

Be who you needed when you were younger.

February 11, 2023February 11, 2023 / April Joy / 2 Comments

I took a picture of my youngest pestering her sister for attention by making kissy faces. This went on for some time - about 10 minutes. It made me laugh, because I saw myself reflected in that silly, persistent, joyful declaration of love and the desire to be loved back. She felt no shame in … Continue reading Be who you needed when you were younger.

Elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious

December 3, 2022December 2, 2022 / April Joy / Leave a comment

Workout buddies. "This is my favorite kind of workout," I text my workout partner, planning his own workout on the other side of the country. "Prolonged discomfort." I wipe the sweat off my face, feel it pool in the crooks of my elbows. I bump up the resistance on my bike, (bad knees from weightlifting … Continue reading Elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious

Dispossession.

November 30, 2022November 30, 2022 / April Joy / 2 Comments

Well, hello again. It's been awhile. I've been stuck in a state of indecision and lethargy and not entirely certain which path to take. I've decided to take all of them. Simultaneously, or as close to that as the linear process of writing will allow. I'd tell you to buckle up, but you're already buckled, … Continue reading Dispossession.

Protected: Nay, it is; I know not ‘seems.’

September 28, 2022October 1, 2022 / April Joy

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

So. Here we are.

June 27, 2022 / April Joy / 1 Comment

So.We’re here, using whatever we can to justify the killing of the unborn — unwanted, special needs, birth defects — that’s quite a loaded one, the last one. Let’s talk about it. I’ve got some things to say. I was adopted at 3hrs old. My parents waited 7yrs for me. My sister is their biological … Continue reading So. Here we are.

Here’s the thing

May 16, 2022May 16, 2022 / April Joy / Leave a comment

Seriously. I’m disturbed that The Cut hasn’t been taking its political fellow travelers to task. Talia Lavin’s shirt in her widely distributed profile photo is an abomination, and at best can only be explained by an affinity for deep dives into the clearance bin at TJ Maxx. She’s definitely not doing any deep dives into … Continue reading Here’s the thing

The leaves were filled with children.

December 25, 2021December 25, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind.TS Eliot, Burnt Norton I’ve said it before, I hate Christmas. … Continue reading The leaves were filled with children.

Let go.

September 19, 2021September 19, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

“Let not future things disturb you, for you will come to them, if it shall be necessary, having with you the same reason which you now use for present things.”Marcus Aurelius I am tired of reaction. I grow weary of anticipating disaster. I do not want to cease thinking rationally, but would like to avoid … Continue reading Let go.

Monsters and ash.

September 18, 2021September 18, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

A modern day woman with a weak constitution 'cause I've gotMonsters still under my bed that I could never fight offLana del Rey, "hope is a dangerous thing" Here's the thing: we all have monsters we can't fight off. None of us is special in this regard. We aren't going to ever conquer our monsters … Continue reading Monsters and ash.

20 years.

September 11, 2021June 27, 2022 / April Joy / Leave a comment

It felt like the end of the world. Planes fell from the sky and nothing was ever the same again. People falling, seeming to float, the horror of having to make that choice on a Tuesday morning. Holding hands on the way down. Falling alone. Death by fire or death by air. The terrible beauty … Continue reading 20 years.

Posts navigation

← Older posts
Follow end of line. on WordPress.com

drink me

  • Twitter
  • Instagram

the wasteland

“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
“They called me the hyacinth girl.”
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

the archive

  • February 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • September 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • December 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • January 2020
  • July 2019

marina

This form, this face, this life
Living to live in a world of time beyond me; let me
Resign my life for this life, my speech for that unspoken,
The awakened, lips parted, the hope, the new ships.
What seas what shores what granite islands towards my timbers
And woodthrush calling through the fog
My daughter.

burnt norton

And the old made explicit, understood
In the completion of its partial ecstasy,
The resolution of its partial horror.

Statcounter

Web Analytics
Create a website or blog at WordPress.com
  • Follow Following
    • end of line.
    • Join 51 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • end of line.
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...