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she's wondering how many women are walking around this world feeling the tingling of their amputated wings remembering what it was to fly to sing

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Feelings
Tingling
Around
Remembering
Remember
Wondering
Women
Wings
Many
Sing
World
Walking
Wonder
Feeling
Amputated

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So guess what, if I ever have my own team I am picking everyone first even the worst kid and the kid with the stutter like a skipping record 'cause I know all of us are scratched, even if you can't hear it when we speak.
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Love is like sunshine. Sometimes you have to get burned to know you were there. I want to know that I'm here.
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Love isn't always magic. Sometimes it's just melting.
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I intend to leave this life so shattered there's gonna have to be a thousand separate heavens for all of my flying parts
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I could never trust anyone who's well adjusted to a sick society.
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Say this is what the pain made of you: an open, open, open road, an avalanche of feel it all.
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Hey, are you a boy or a — never mind, can I have a push on the swing?” And some day, y’all, when we grow up, it’s all gonna be that simple.
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I write because it is while I'm writing that I feel most connected to why we're here. I write because silence is a heavy weight to carry. I write to remember. I write to heal. I write to let the air in. I write as a practice of listening.
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This is my body. It is no one's but mine.
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And we were Banksy on an overpass in New Orleans spray-painting porch lights on the hurricane. We were welcome mats for the un-forgiven. We never sold our windpipes to make a living. We were the letters sent to the wrong address, but opened anyway. We opened anyway.
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If you’re handing out flashlights in the dark, start handing out stars.
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I'm good at loving books. I'm good at loving soft bed sheets. I'm good at loving coffees and teas. I am good at loving things that can't love me back, that don't have the power to leave. And maybe, that's why I love them.
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Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.
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For Halloween I'm gonna be emotionally stable. No one's gonna know it's me.
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I thought, The flowers, save the flowers... I never thought for a second we wouldn't save the people
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I don't have a single plan for my life more important than learning to love people well.
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In your arms I forget what the yarn knows of sweaters. I forget how to hold myself together. So if I unfold now like a love letter tell me you'll write back soon. Tell me you'll still come untethered.
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