![]() ![]() Her nipples underneath my hand, her fingers in my hair –– a forest crying from the dead and fragrance everywhere.Īnd you’re stuck behind your house like an old rusted truck that will never haul another load. ![]() ![]() Sometimes it gets so lonely, I don’t know what to do, I’d trade my stash of boredom for a little hit of you. You missed the point of poetry it’s all about them not about me. If the crazy god did not want us to eat one another why make our flesh so sweet. I was always working steady but I never called it art. ![]() Leonard Cohen was prolific and when watching his prolificness from the sidelines, it’s difficult to not question one’s own ability while longing to achieve his same success.Īnyway, here were a handful of my favorite lines from The Flame… *Leonard Cohen is typing now* I recently picked up his final book, The Flame, a collection of lost poems, lyrics, journal excerpts and self-portraits that left me feeling both insecure and inspired. While Cohen would ultimately make a name for himself as a singer-songwriter, he was first and foremost a writer of poetry and prose –– a place he would inevitably return to in the twilight of his years. Before venturing into music, Leonard Cohen wrote three collections of poetry followed by two novels –– his last of which, Beautiful Losers, would go on to receive an enormous amount of attention with some comparing the book’s stream-of-conscious style to the late James Joyce. ![]()
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