12:18 pm - Sun, Apr 13, 2014
31 notes

Superfluous Anti-Grandma Coffee


I love you (not really)
I’m here to buy superfluous
Anti-Grandma black Americano
Boiling lava five dollar coffee
Whatever that means

You’re doing ok?
What a coincidence.

2:59 am
2 notes
Q: "fearless failure" is one of the most amazing descriptions I've heard someone call themselves. I hope for such freedom for others. If failure can simply be looked at as potential with no time left, if you know fear can be mocked & burnished into unburdened joys... what elation I have to glimpse your ever-growing effulgence.

I definitely stole that phrase, or at least the idea, from John Green.

What you just said, on the other hand, is pure poetry. Much love!

4:15 pm - Fri, Apr 11, 2014
160 notes



We molded resistance
into mutual fortifications, where
among bed sheets twisted
through fevered fornication we
became the rug-burned ends
of tension’s last resolve.

Our tongues lay trails
to treasure troves of toes
curled in feral footfalls, pleading
passion never spent
by mere momentary release.

Fingers print patient
paths that forage
and plunder, paying due attention
to the oft-ignored: the braille
of goosebumps; the choreography
of an arched back; the poetry
of a whimper.

© 2014 by Jennifer R.R. Mueller

6:34 am - Thu, Apr 10, 2014
53,684 notes
This sign is located on King Street in Newtown, Sydney. I drive by it all the time and I was intrigued by it for weeks and weeks before I thought to google and see if I could find out what it is. Hipster bar. It’s a hipster bar. 

This sign is located on King Street in Newtown, Sydney. I drive by it all the time and I was intrigued by it for weeks and weeks before I thought to google and see if I could find out what it is. 

Hipster bar. It’s a hipster bar. 

(via mellyannsavelly)

11:13 pm - Tue, Apr 8, 2014
27 notes


pockmarks the cloth wallpaper
thick paint on the dimpled brick hallway
red clay dust falls as watery sand down
the tall chimney

electronic dander on a cat slinking
the base boards skulking along the floor
squared patterns of sun alighting
a ruse arising to distract you
in warmth

from the harm…

11:10 pm
22 notes


my face shouts a grizzly’s dirge
while I seek to purge my eyes’ memories
(the news, the ugliness)
and fill up with light. I might
reach far enough, slap on a smile,
if only for a little while.

the hallway voices nothing new
a drone and banter I could join;
I could if only I wanted to. I do
not want to. I do not want this
place in my heart.
but I’ve read for this part.

11:09 pm
26 notes

This is all so confusing

There’s no promise
in hidden corners
that spoke so kindly
from far off.

I’d wish you
something, anything
so familiar to
anyone else. I’d wish you
I’d wish you here
if I could be so selfish
or generous, or
both, and we’re both
lost in empty places
navigating the lack—
your lack of nothing
we can offer.

But I love you, I know that
and I’m old enough to know
that’s not enough to fill the empty
or to light up hidden corners
or to whisper true to promises—
things I’d wish you

3:58 pm
18 notes

The Magnolia Tree


Every spring the Japanese Magnolia
I helped plant in the yard
almost twenty two years ago
surprises me when I need it most

It begins the minute March blinks his eyes:
I walk outside & greet the bare, young thing
every morning, talk to her, requesting,
"Please don’t fail me, love—

every year, your carmine bleeds
lees of a darker wine. I trust
our bumble bees will be tender & slender,
working swiftly & gently, entering petals

to tease tendrils. Every bud will bloom,
washing the onslaught & malice
from Winter’s doom. You’ll erupt, boom
loudly, proudly shouting—just

do your best & hold yourself together
much better this year. Every bough
& branch will know my touch—”
holding what fuzzy shells each pod hides,

sick with spring fever, ill with a love
greater every minute. Now look at you,
like white wisps with streaks of fire,
burning. Soon, the winds here will end

every flower, as they fall, plop like
used tissues laying around a waste basket—
obliterated with a transient session,
infirm with such a short, but vibrant life, I forget?

to speak to you even without your dress
& decor. Though I want more, there’s
always next year: I’ll prove myself this year
by never leaving you alone every day.


12:08 pm
2 notes

Sonneting. Might even have something to post later today. 

3:14 pm - Mon, Apr 7, 2014
21 notes



I knew you first as a threat.
You lurked like a shadow at the edge of my imagination,
weighing on my every thought,
but nameless, and thus safe. 

But when I saw you, 
as fragile as dried twigs wrapped in crepe paper, 
you lost your weight but gained importance immeasurable,
and a name. 

Particularly relevant today

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