“I hiked around town, the air sweet and dry, and was sort of overwhelmed by the perfection of it -- the old courthouse, the train depot, Mount [Jumbo] and Mount Sentinel rising up, the neon bars, the funky festivity of a college town .” AirCollegeSweetPerfectionTownsTrainBarsRisingDryOverwhelmedMontanaNeonFunkyRising UpFestivitiesSentinelsCourthouses Author:Garrison Keillor
“Death's dry bones glowed with light in the erotic dark but he woke not nor felt the two warm bodies merge; the male worm then took heart and in his wife's ear whispered: "With one sweet kiss, dear wife, we've conquered conquering Death!” HeartTwoBodyLightFeltDarkWifeSweetKissingEarsMalesDearWarmBonesConquerDryWormsEroticSweet KissesDry Bones Book:the Odyssey a Modern Sequel Source: the Odyssey a Modern Sequel
“Everything desires not like but unlike: for example, the dry desires the moist, the cold the hot, the bitter the sweet, the sharp the blunt, the void the full, the full the void, and so of all other things; for the opposite is the food of the opposite, whereas like receives like receives nothing from like.” DesireExampleSweetColdOppositesHotBitterDryVoidBlunt Book:The Complete Plato Source: The Complete Plato
“This morning, Tegus welcomed me again with an arm clasp and cheek touch. I wasn't startled this time, and I breathed in at his neck. How can I describe the scent of his skin? He smells something like cinnamon-- brown and dry and sweet and warm. Ancestors, is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell?” EyeMorningImagineSweetArmsSkinsWarmSmellBreathingDryNecksBrownChestsAncestorCheeksScentClosingCinnamonClosing My Eyes Author:Shannon Hale
“What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?” DoeDreamHappensRunningSunSweetHeavyMeatDrySugarLoadRottenStinkDry UpRaisinsHarlem RenaissanceSummer RainHeavy Loads Author:Langston Hughes
“Death comes to me again, a girl in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling. It’s not so terrible she tells me, not like you think, all darkness and silence. There are windchimes and the smell of lemons, some days it rains, but more often the air is dry and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase built from hair and bone and listen to the voices of the living. I like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair, especially when they fight, and when they sing.” ThinkingGirlFightingVoiceSilenceDarknessAirSweetLike YouHairTerribleBuiltRainBonesSmellDustDrySlipsShakingCottonLemonsBarefootStaircases Book:Smoke: poems Source: Smoke: poems