Yeah I’ve Read The Classics…

Frank Castle deserves to be treated right dammit

Glossary of Quotes, References, and Allusions in 'And This, Your Living Kiss'

INTRODUCTION

I’ve put together this official glossary for my fic due to multiple requests. Please read the whole introduction before you explore it.

First and foremost, I am a lover of literature and music but I’m not an expert. Dates are mostly taken from Wikipedia; definitions are in my own words but whenever I doubted myself I confirmed and/or adjusted using The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, fourth edition.

What this glossary is:

A list, in order of appearance, of any reference I/the characters have made with links and receipts when necessary EXCEPT for Supernatural references. There are very many of those and are meant for fans of the show to enjoy. A handful of extremely obvious references (e.g. Moana) have also been skipped.

What this glossary is not:

—Me explaining why I/the character chose to make that reference

—Me either endorsing or condemning any of these works and/or their creators

However, in order for people to make informed decisions, I have added a few Caveat lector warnings (reader beware) wherever I am aware of egregious negative themes. Use your own discretion from there. Please also understand I may be ignorant of some things myself in which case no warning will appear.

I’ve tried to keep the editorializing to a minimum. That said, if you have questions or want me to expand on anything contained herein, drop an ask and I’ll do my best to answer.

To navigate:

Each entry begins with phrases copied as written from the fic in order of their appearance. Therefore this will probably be the most helpful to read if you have both fic and glossary open on your screen; otherwise use your browser’s “find” function for keywords. People/works that are mentioned more than once only appear in the glossary the first time. Likewise, if it is defined in the fic itself I generally did not add it here, so double-check if you think something was missed.

Lastly, please enjoy!

opal <3

TITLE

“And This, Your Living Kiss”: a line from the poem “If I Was Dead” by Carol Ann Duffy (Scottish, b. 1955) and included in her collection Rapture(2005). You can read the poem in full here at the Scottish Poetry Library.

CHAPTER ONE: ARISE

He didn’t care where, just far. : A riff off a line from the song “Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)” by Deftones, off the album Around the Fur (1997). [youtube link]

The cheap perfume of the girls as they walk by, all dressed in their summer clothes… : A riff off a lyric from “Paint It, Black” by The Rolling Stones, off the album Aftermath (1966). [youtube link]

the usual oversold things like Patterson and Cussler : Bestselling American writers James Patterson (b. 1947) and Clive Cussler (1931-2020).

Dean scanned past Emerson and Erdrich, Ferlinghetti and García Lorca, until he paused on Allen Ginsberg. : Ralph Waldo Emerson, American writer (1803-1882); Louise Erdrich, Ojibwe/American novelist and poet (b. 1954); Lawrence Ferlinghetti, American beat poet and cofounder of City Lights, a San Francisco bookstore and publishing company referenced throughout this fic (1919-2021); Federico García Lorca, Spanish poet and playwright (1898-1936); Allen Ginsberg, American beat poet (1926-1997).

a book that just said Howl : Poem written by Allen Ginsberg and published in the collection Howl and Other Poems by City Lights in 1956. It’s made of four parts (three sections plus a footnote). Read it here, and don’t forget to click to the footnote at the bottom.

and it wasn’t the tiny black and white City Lights paperback : City Lights has a “Pocket Poets Series” whose design is pretty iconic. Read about it and see an example here.

HOWL, it read, Original draft facsimile…Facsimile? What did that even mean? : In the world of poetry a facsimile usually refers to a reproduction of a poem with all its extant drafts, including any markings made on them. They’re incredibly helpful in studying the craft/process of poets.

He wasn’t some elite sitting in his little Robert Frost cabin in the woods : Robert Frost, American poet (1974-1963).

discussion of the obscenity trial that nearly stopped it from being printed : Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Shig Murao were put on trial for publishing and disseminating Howl and Other Poems on the charge of the material being obscene. Obviously, they won the case.

Am I mad that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit? / I will pluck it from my bosom, though my heart be at the root. : A couplet from the long poem “Locksley Hall” (1835) by English poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892). Caveat lector: If you intend to read it, be warned it is an excellent example of his complicated legacy. That is, he has written some of the best verse to grace the English language, influencing it in many ways (“better to have loved and lost,” most famously), and yet he was a hella British imperialist with all the attendant racist and colonialist views. Arguably queer and proto-feminist, still some of the POVs he writes from, like the narrator of this poem, are very sexist and patriarchal.

Do I dare? : A famous quote from the poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (1915) by T.S. Eliot (American-British poet, 1888-1965). Caveat lector: This poem is a fantastic read, but be aware that if you venture into his other poetry his anti-Semitism does make appearances.

was like a waking limb, pins and needles? : Another lyric riff, this time from “Nice to Know You” by Incubus, off the album Morning View (2001). [youtube link]

Courage, poor stupid heart of stone. : Another Tennyson quote, this time from his epic poem Maud: a monodrama (1855). Read it here. Click “next” at the bottom of the page for the rest of the poem.

CHAPTER TWO: JUVENILIA

Juvenilia : Term used to refer to the early works of a writer, generally unpublished until they’ve become established and there’s an interest/demand. From the Latin “of youth.”

Anne Bradstreet and Nathaniel Hawthorne and fucking Puritans : Discussion of American literature in classrooms usually starts with the Puritans. Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672), though born in England, lived most of her life in Massachusetts and is considered by some to be the first great American poet. Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) was not a Puritan, but he was a direct descendant of prominent Puritan figures and his most famous book, The Scarlet Letter, takes place in those times/that culture.

discussions of The Scarlet Letter and Moby-Dick: For Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter (1850) see above. Moby-Dick (1851) was written by Herman Melville (1819-1891) and is another staple of early American lit.

It wasn’t until Dr. Moseley assigned Jack Kerouac’s On the Road that he paid a little more attention in class. : Jack Kerouac (1922-1969) was a major figure of the Beat Generation, writing both books and poetry. His most famous novel was a piece of autobiographical fiction called On the Road, published in 1957. Caveat lector: In the novel you’ll find general sexism throughout and a couple passages of ignorant (as opposed to malicious) racism.

“The Hobbit, that was written by the same guy as Lord of the Rings, right?” “J.R.R. Tolkien,” she answered brightly. : J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) English philologist and writer. He’s most widely known for his book The Hobbit (1937) and its sequel, his masterpiece The Lord of the Rings (1954-1955).

“I keep meaning to because Led Zeppelin references it a lot.” : Two songs that immediately come to mind are “Ramble On” (1969) and “The Battle of Evermore” (1971). Youtube links here and here.

“Those were the days, man,” he said. “When a guy could just hop in a car and do whatever he wanted. A car, a destination, and a girl, in that order.” : A quote from On the Road: “It was remarkable how Dean could go mad and then suddenly continue with his soul—which I think is wrapped up in a fast car, a coast to reach, and a woman at the end of the road.”

“You named yourself after Ray Bradbury, of course I like you for you.” : Ray Bradbury (1920-2012), American writer, best known for Fahrenheit 451.

She was reading a slim volume called Wit : The play Wit or W;t premiered in 1995 and was written by Margaret Edson (American, b. 1961). It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1999. There was a movie made of it a while back starring Emma Thompson as Vivian Bearing, but definitely go see it in person at a theatre if you get the chance.

Shakespeare. Death of a Salesman. Pretty sure I’ve read The Crucible three times in three different states. : The plays Death of a Salesman (1949) and The Crucible (1953) were both written by American playwright Arthur Miller (1915-2005). Plenty of adaptations have been made of Miller’s work if you don’t get a chance to see them at a theatre; Dustin Hoffman is in a movie version of Salesman which I can knowingly recommend as quality.

a college professor specializing in metaphysical poetry : Basically you’re looking at a loosely defined English poetical movement in the 1600s. John Donne is by far the most famous of these poets.

“John Donne was the most famous practitioner…Hm, let’s see. You know the Metallica song, ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’?” “Sure, based on a Hemingway book.” : John Donne, English poet and priest (1572-1631). “For Whom the Bell Tolls” is a song by Metallica off the album Ride the Lightning (1984) [youtube link]. Ernest Hemingway, American writer and journalist (1899-1961). For Whom the Bell Tolls is among his most famous works. The quote is from “Meditation XVII” found in Donne’s Devotions upon Emergent Occasions (1623), which you can read here. The relevant and extremely famous part is “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

The centerpiece is a poem by John Donne, ‘Death Be Not Proud.’ : Sonnet written in 1609.

Dr. Seuss. Shel Silverstein. Chicka chicka boom boom. : Dr. Seuss, American writer and illustrator (1904-1991); Shel Silverstein, American writer (1930-1999); Chicka Chicka Boom Boom (1989) is an American picturebook written by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault, illustrated by Lois Ehlert.

if it was good enough for Plant and Bowie and Queen : Robert Plant is of course the lead singer of Led Zeppelin; Bowie is of course David Bowie.

Pulling them up from their dying bed : Here Dean is referencing Led Zeppelin’s version of “In My Time of Dying” (1975).

Just wipes us off his shoulder, dust to dust. : Naturally a reference to the famous line from many a Christian burial service, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

You told us that Kerouac wrote On the Road in one sitting. : A bit of an exaggeration; Kerouac reportedly typed up his “original scroll” in an intense drug-fueled haze in a relatively short period of time. This was eventually published long after the fact, so you can buy a copy if you’re interested.

What we read for class was highly edited : For coherency and subject matter and yes, changing the names of the real people involved. And it’s a lot shorter.

Well he and his friends were part of the Beat Generation. : Mid-century American art and counterculture movement.

One was titled Howl and the other, Kaddish. : Missouri is giving Dean the City Lights publications of Howl and Other Poems (1956) and Kaddish and Other Poems (1961), both by Allen Ginsberg. Kaddish is also considered one of Ginsberg’s masterpieces, written after the death of his mother.

If you like it, after we read Ralph Ellison I might squeeze in some poetry : Ralph Ellison, American writer and critic (1913-1994). Best known for Invisible Man (1952).

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness : This marks the first few lines of the poem Howl.

The Footnote with its orgasmic, nirvanic litany holy, holy, holy : The Footnote to Howl begins with fifteen repetitions of “Holy!” and contains many more iterations of the word thereafter.

Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas! : As written in the middle of the Footnote to Howl.

Eagerly Dean devoured the rest of the collection: “A Strange New Cottage in Berkeley,” “Sunflower Sutra,” and then, in the pinking dusky sky, “Many Loves,” : Indeed these are all pieces found in Ginsberg’s collection Howl and Other Poems. The italics in the paragraphs following this line are all lifted from “Many Loves” and not coincidentally, the phrases are in the order they appear in the poem, so even though you’re missing most of it, you are discovering those lines at the same time Dean is.

Oh god, they were together on a small cot. : Oh my god, there was only one bed! ^_^ Ginsberg and Cassady lived out the trope, y’all!! Icons!

Rufus Turner and his wife Gwen : Gwen is the only name in the fic not lifted from Supernatural, as no one in Rufus’s family is named in the show. Therefore I chose to name Rufus’s wife after celebrated American poet Gwendolyn Brooks (1917-2000).

you’ve never heard of Langston Hughes, one of the greatest poets this country ever produced? Harlem Renaissance? Nothing? : Langston Hughes (American, 1901-1967). The Harlem Renaissance was an African-American cultural movement (of which Hughes was a major figure) whose epicenter was in Harlem, New York City. It reverberated across the country and the world during the early 20th century. Hughes and jazz and all sorts of art from the Harlem Renaissance were big influences on Allen Ginsberg (and the Beats in general).

Eastern poetics had a big influence on Ginsberg. : Just like what was showing up in music by The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, Eastern art, culture, and religion were popular in a big way in Western literature during the mid-century. The Beat Generation was well involved. Ginsberg talks about haiku a lot when discussing his craft.

Japanese masters, like Matsuo Bashō : A Japanese poet (1644-1694) very famous for haiku. His Frog Haiku has been rendered in many ways, but of course Ginsberg’s is included here. For comparison, an older contemporary of the Beats named Kenneth Rexroth, who translated a lot of foreign-language poetry into English (thank you for your service, good sir!), fashioned it thus: An old pond— / The sound / Of a diving frog.

CHAPTER THREE: DR. NOVAK

The expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face—You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side— : Both lines are lifted from the second stanza of the second part of Walt Whitman’s (American, 1819-1892) poem “I Sing the Body Electric,” first published in 1855, but revised over the years. Read it here. Caveat lector: Slavery and auction block references.

Styles, forms. Sonnet, sestina, terza rima? : Style can refer to the common definition, but also specific characteristics that define an individual’s writing, or a poetic/literary movement. Its definition can change depending on type of criticism. The study of styles is called stylistics. Form refers to the structure by which a poem is composed or, more broadly, how lines are broken up in free verse, etc. Forms invented and/or made famous by a certain poet automatically invoke that poet when choosing to write within it. The following three terms are traditional poetic forms. A sonnet is traditionally a 14-line poem that often follows a certain scheme based on three different poets who perfected them: the Italian or Petrarchan sonnet, associated with Petrarch (Francesco Petrarca, Aretine, 1304-1374); the Spenserian, associated with Edmund Spenser (English, 1552/3-1599); and the English or Shakespearean associated, of course, with William Shakespeare (1564-1616). Originally a Sicilian invention from the 1200s. A sestina is a difficult form comprised of six stanzas with six lines apiece. Each line of the poem ends with one of six words, alternating by pattern. It ends with a final three-line stanza using all six words, three in the middle and three at the end. If this sounds confusing, read Elizabeth Bishop’s famous “A Miracle for Breakfast” (1937) to see the sestina in action. An Occitan invention of the 1100s, likely by Arnaut Daniel. Terza rima consists of tercets (three-line stanzas) interlocked by the rhyme scheme aba bcb cdc and so on. Developed by Dante Alighieri (Florentine, 1265-1321) for his masterwork la Commedia, best known as The Divine Comedy.

How about poetic elements? Chiasmus, anaphora? : Chiasmus is also a type of repetition. It can occur on the level of sound, word, phrase, idea, or structure, by reversing or crossing over two of these things. Example: “A and B; B and A.”

Dean was hardly going to tell him that his last collection had been shortlisted for the National Book Award. : A longstanding and important book award given annually in the United States. In addition to Poetry there are currently categories for Fiction, Nonfiction, Translated Literature, and Young People’s Literature. If you’re looking for poetry recs Wikipedia has a list of the winners and finalists here.

and popped Zepp’s Physical Graffiti into the player. : Led Zeppelin released their sixth album Physical Graffiti in 1975. [youtube link]

Honestly Dean wouldn’t be surprised if one of them had declared their love for Cas on their eyelids, Indiana Jones style. : See this short clip from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) if you’re unfamiliar with Dean’s reference.

Paradise Lost : This epic poem was written by John Milton (English, 1608-1674) in 1667.

The Bible : Oldest extant written text from around a couple hundred years BCE, but presumed to have first been put together centuries prior via linguistics and historical considerations, etc. About a third of the Hebrew Bible is poetry.

The Iliad : Epic poem of Ancient Greece concerning the Trojan War first written down, and possibly composed, in the 8th century BCE. Popularly attributed to Homer.

Beowulf : Written down around the turn of the 11th century CE, but possibly from up to a couple centuries earlier, this epic poem was composed in Old English aka Anglo-Saxon.

Gilgamesh : Some of the earliest surviving literature of the world full stop! Poems about the Ancient Mesopotamian figure first showed up written in Sumerian (possibly as early as the mid-2000s BCE???), but this student likely means the Epic of Gilgamesh, composed in Akkadian and written up to a millennium or so later.

They come from the oral tradition. : Billie and Cas remind us that just because a written piece of work is very old, it in no way means the culture it comes from is superior to others. All cultures had and have rich, beautiful, ancient storytelling traditions whether they’ve been written down or not.

driving in a car singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with our friends : “Bohemian Rhapsody” is a song written by Queen off the album A Night at the Opera (1975). [youtube link] Though I can guarantee you that the comment brings to Dean’s mind the famous opening of the movie Wayne’s World (1992). [youtube link]

the next person, who had chosen some Sylvia Plath : Sylvia Plath, American, 1932-1963. Caveat lector: If you explore her more famous poems you will find vivid Holocaust references that, though used as metaphor, are very arguably anti-Semitic. Also consider caution if you struggle with depression.

Yone Noguchi : Whether Noguchi can be considered American depends on who you ask, as he was born in Japan and returned there later in life, but he lived in the United States a good long while and wrote a lot of English-language poetry. Dean makes an erroneous assumption here without having read the full bio; Noguchi certainly wrote a lot in Japanese as well, but that’s outside the purview of Castiel’s class.

“Uh, Imagism?” “You know, early shit from Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot and whatever.” : Imagism was more or less the precursor to Modernism in English-language poetry and was, as you may guess, heavy on imagery. Ezra Pound (American, 1885-1972) was a huge proponent of Imagism and an important writer, critic, and editor such that he basically is the foundation of 20th century English-language lit. For all that, another Caveat lector: he was an anti-Semite and such a devoted fascist that he literally moved to Italy for love of Mussolini and was later tried by the States for treason (got out of it on the grounds of mental health). I don’t know how much of such views appear in his poetry because I’ve read little of it. However, for a small but famous example of his work that also demonstrates the influence of Eastern poetics, here’s “In a Station of the Metro” (1913): The apparition of these faces in the crowd: / Petals on a wet, black bough.

That attitude’s just a holdover from when Harold Bloom was talking about the ‘Anxiety of Influence’ that poets suffer : Harold Bloom (American, 1930-2019), influential critic, published his book The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry in 1973.

Jonathan Lethem, though? Him you should look up. : Jonathan Lethem (American writer, b. 1964) wrote an essay called “The Ecstasy of Influence,” published in Harper’s Magazine in 2007. Read it in full here.

There were some poets he vaguely remembered from high school, like Wilfred Owen : English poet, 1893-1918. Considered one of the great WWI poets, he was killed in action while in France, age 25.

Typographical, sonic, sensory, ideational, and—putting them all together—fusional. : Adapted and in widespread use based on books by Lewis Turco (American, b. 1934). Some basic definitions follow. Typographical: How the poem appears on the page. Sonic: Anything sound-related, from repeated letters (assonance, consonance) to rhyme, rhythm, meter, pauses, etc. Sensory: Things that evoke both physical senses (taste, touch, etc.) and emotions. Ideational: Thoughts and ideas; themes, morals, arguments, opinions, etc. Fusional: How and whether the other levels fit into a cohesive whole; is the poem more than the sum of its parts?

Maybe Dean was a little Hot for Teacher : “Hot for Teacher” is a song by Van Halen from the album 1984 (indeed, released in 1984). [youtube link]

singing the praises of poems that required fluency in five languages {…} “What, he can quote half an Eastern religion but he’s not quoting Tennyson?” : In T.S. Eliot’s long poem The Waste Land (1922) a few different languages make an appearance, including Sanskrit, as he pulls from Hindu scripture. Dean points out that one of the poem’s most famous lines, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust” owes something to a less famous line of Tennyson’s, also appearing in the aforementioned Maud, “And my heart is a handful of dust.”

CHAPTER FOUR: DINNER AT MISSOURI’S

and coax out her thoughts about Vonnegut’s short stories : Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007), American writer best known for his novel Slaughterhouse-Five.

You also might want to brush up on your MLA. : The Modern Language Association, an American organization that publishes the style and citation guide favored by literary scholars; in this context used as shorthand for how to cite references within a paper.

“Who hasn’t heard of Caddyshack?!” : A 1980 comedy starring Chevy Chase and Bill Murray.

“Exactly,” said Sam, laughing. “And he really loved Ayn Rand.” : Russian-American writer (1905-1982) best known for her novels The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.

CHAPTER FIVE: JOHN WINCHESTER’S WALTZ

Beat Generation, Formalism, Surrealism, Confessional, Deep Image poetry, and many more : Formalism in this case refers to a resurgence of poetic forms and use of more stringent elements such as rhyme or meter after the recent dominance of free verse. Surrealism had of course been around for decades but saw new life through exchange of international styles and translations, and experimentation pushing boundaries of the traditional and the rational. Confessional poetry is taking the autobiographical style of poetry to the extreme. Very personal and subjective writing about oneself, especially illness and trauma, etc. Deep Image poetry is an American style influenced by the ideas of Carl Jung and especially Latin American surrealism, putting emphasis on archetypal and natural imagery to evoke thought, emotion, and connection.

‘My Papa’s Waltz’ written by Theodore Roethke : American poet, 1908-1963. He was born and grew up in Saginaw.

This next one was written in 1966 by Robert Hayden: 'Those Winter Sundays.' : American poet, 1913-1980. He was born and grew up in Detroit.

And they drank to all the man was, and all he could have been. : In retrospect, almost certainly inspired by lyrics from “The Great Below” by Nine Inch Nails, off the album The Fragile (1999). [youtube link]

So. : An echo of Seamus Heaney’s (Irish poet, 1939-2013) famous and highly lauded translation of Beowulf, specifically his interpretation of the first word “Hwæt” as “So.”

CHAPTER SIX: THE RETURN OF THE QUEEN

The Return of the Queen : Referencing the third part of The Lord of the Rings containing books five and six, The Return of the King.

My candle burns at both ends, the loopy part of his brain chanted over and over, like having a song stuck in the head. It gives a lovely light! : Lines from the short poem “First Fig” (1920) by American poet Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950). In full it reads, My candle burns at both ends; / It will not last the night; / But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— / It gives a lovely light!

In the end he had to take notes from his man Harrison Ford and pull an Indiana Jones exchange with his wallet. : Another reference to Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. If you’re unfamiliar or need a refresher, here’s a clip of the scene on youtube. Relevant part about a minute in.

Dean had spent too long guarding him like Smaug and his golden hoard : Another Tolkien reference; Smaug is an infamous dragon from the book The Hobbit.

There’s a Whitesnake quote? From their song ‘Here I Go Again.’ : Originally off the album Saints & Sinners (1982), but the more widely known version is the later cut from 1987. [youtube link]

“I love you.” / “I know.” : Infamous lines from Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back (1980) [youtube link].

Elizabeth Bishop : American poet, (1911-1979).

Emily Dickinson : American poet, (1830-1886).

Oscar Wilde : Irish writer, (1854-1900).

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE BRIDGE

and then Billie had mentioned that if Robert Hayden grew up in Detroit couldn’t “blueblack” also be a reference to the local music scene in his childhood?: This wonderful observation is cribbed from the Poetry in America series, as described by poet Elizabeth Alexander (American, b. 1962) in the episode for Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays.” Watch it here.

And wasn’t there a Muddy Waters song : Muddy Waters, American musician 1913-1983. One of the greatest bluesmen to ever live, and a huge influence on rock’n’roll.

while everyone else was bringing in Frost and Dickinson and Keats : John Keats, English poet, 1795-1821.

or ones who drank themselves into the grave like Dylan Thomas, or were going crazy all the time like Lowell : Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet, 1914-1953. Robert Lowell, American poet, 1917-1977.

These poets for social justice, like Dennis Brutus. : Dennis Brutus, South African poet, 1924-2009.

“Warmgold folds,” he said. “Silkchill skeins. That sunlit sensuous voluptuousness / of luxurious indulgence in lush-ripe flesh.” : Phrases from an untitled poem [“The sand wet and cool”] written by Brutus in 1970.

“Milkblue.” : The beginning of another untitled poem by Brutus written in 1970 [“Milkblue—tender the moonlit midnight sky”].

Like Byron did both, right : George, Lord Byron, English poet 1788-1824.

“He said, if he had spent more time on poetry, he would have been a better poet. But working to end apartheid and other injustices in the world was more important work. And that is how he chose to spend his time.” : “And it seems to me that if I ever made such a commitment—to be a craftsman in poetry—inevitably, the other things I’m doing would suffer {…} In order for me to make a total commitment to poetry, I would have to remake myself. This is not impossible, in the sense that I could wholly shut out, say, my political activity, my organizing work, my sports, the kind of chores which I do from day to day with this and that committee, and so on. I think it would not be impossible, but I think it would be immoral. This is what really stops me: that a total commitment to the craft of poetry, with the kind of integrity which that implies, would do damage to what I now regard as essential to integrity for me. Which means social concern.” Dennis Brutus, as quoted in Poetry & Protest: A Dennis Brutus Reader (2006) pg 177.

This idea that poets and other artists should self-destruct for our amusement is a rotten romanticism. : Credit for calling this oft-criticized phenomenon ‘rotten romanticism’ must go to Elizabeth Bishop, as written in a personal letter to a friend. From Megan Marshall’s biography Elizabeth Bishop: A Miracle for Breakfast (2017) pg 130: “Elizabeth had been distressed, she told a friend, by the way so many in [Robert Lowell’s] inner circle, like [Dylan Thomas’s], seemed to “really just love the spectacle of the poet destroying himself and they’re filled with rotten romanticism about it.””

Dean took it hesitantly. “A River Dies of Thirst,” he read. “What is this?” “Mahmoud Darwish. Read ‘The essence of the poem.’ Near the end. Okay?” : Mahmoud Darwish, Palestinian poet, 1941-2008. His collection A River Dies of Thirst was published in Arabic in 2008; the English language edition was translated by Catherine Cobham and published in 2009. Find “The essence of the poem” pgs 119-120.

Dean didn’t hear him. After Mary Oliver and Maya Angelou, there he was: Jack Allen. : Mary Oliver, American poet, 1935-2019. Maya Angelou, American writer, (1928-2014).

and unforgiving lights all / Left up bright, : This line owes something to a lyric from “The Last Time I Saw Richard” off the album Blue (1971) by Joni Mitchell. [youtube link]

Is there life? / Is there life on Mars? : From the song “Life on Mars?” by David Bowie, off the album Hunky Dory (1971). [youtube link]

Getting crushed by a unicorn, hello Freud! : Sigmund Freud, father of psychoanalysis (Austrian, 1856-1939).

Please. That’s exactly the kind of plain guy name a girl would use for a pseudonym. George Eliot-style. : Mary Ann Evans, English writer, better known by her nom de plume George Eliot (1819-1880).

Dean bit his lip, fighting not to snap out that he quoted David Bowie because sometimes it’s kinda funny, you know, what you think when you’re doing things like that : This line riffs off of lyrics from the song “Me and a Gun” by Tori Amos, off the album Little Earthquakes (1992). [youtube link, but trigger warning for rape]

and sometimes a song was just a damn song. : Dean recycling a quote popularly attributed to Freud, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar” (sometimes there is no symbolic meaning).

“Nights in Pink Satin”: A Reference Playlist

“Nights in White Satin” by The Moody Blues, from Days of Future Passed (1967)

“Lola” by The Kinks, from Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One (1970)

“Hoochie Coochie Man” by Muddy Waters (1954)

“I’m a Man” by Bo Diddley (1955)

“Mannish Boy” by Muddy Waters (1955)

“I’m Eighteen” by Alice Cooper, from Love It to Death (1971)

“Don’t Let Me Down” by The Beatles (1969)

Referenced in spirit:

“18 and Life” by Skid Row, from Skid Row (1989)

“Pink” by Aerosmith, from Nine Lives (1997)

Accidentally referenced: “In My Time of Dying” by Led Zeppelin.

Nonmusical reference: Allen Ginsberg’s Footnote to Howl.

“If he’s so uncomfortable, I would very much like to read out Sharon Olds’s ‘The Connoisseuse of Slugs’.” : Sharon Olds, American poet (b. 1942). Find “The Connoisseuse of Slugs” in her collection The Dead and the Living (1984), or read it here.

As it should be, padawan : A Jedi apprentice from Star Wars.

The chrism is on thine head,—on mine, the dew,— : From the third sonnet in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s (English poet, 1806-1861) masterwork Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850). Read it here, though I have used the adjusted punctuation by EBB from later publications.

He showed me how to live. : “Show Me How to Live” by Audioslave, off the album Audioslave (2002). [youtube link]

Lazarus Rising : Just a quick note to say the poem is simply using a terza rima rhyme scheme, since I’ve come across people wondering what form it is.

I hope this glossary was both helpful and interesting! Feel free to drop an ask if you’d like.

do u guys remember when cas died and dean grieved like a widow and looked like this

the whole time and then cas came back and the first person he called was dean and light literally shone on dean’s face when he found out and dean said “welcome home” as he hugged him in the middle of a random alley and then neither of them ever had another love interest again but they did have mentions of movie nights together and little moments tucked away from everyone else . like u don’t even need the confession to know that they were actually in love. does that ever hit u

version of spn where dean is openly bisexual the entire time and definitely fucks a priest during a job and sam is does his judgmental little "dude" and dean is like "i already went to hell once man,, what's the worst that could happen" and everytime there's a new bad guy or apocalypse sam is like "this is bc you fucked a priest" and eventually he says it in front of Cas who does his little squint and head tilt and just

"You what?"

A Million Reasons - Masterlist

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: Enemies (annoyance) to lovers, Bucky’s old money at an ivy league, angst, minor injury, drinking, eventual smut (minors dni, marked **)

a/n: Hello! I’ve decided there won’t be a set posting day for this series. This is something I’ve been super excited to share (even with my writing steam dying out) and I want to get it out here without extra pressure. I’ll be adding the dates for upcoming chapters as they are ready :) And thank you @traitorjoelite​ for that second, beautiful moodboard 🤍

♡ Series playlist 🪴

Keep reading

chilean poet, pedagogue, lesbian, rebel, gabriela mistral, who should be remembered not only as an female icon of chilean literature (as opposition of neruda, who was a rapist, abuser and dead beat father) but as a woman who loved another woman, despite being forced in a asexual box by men who couldn't accept such an incredible woman not being straight.

the woman who gained a nobel in literature, who wasn't appreciated by her own country because she was a woman.

I remember her, today and ever.

(gabriela mistral on the left, her partner doris dana on the right)

i cant do this anymore guys. it’s the same fucking face

Dean Winchester acting normal around handsome men challenge

bonus: boner for cas all fresh and cleaned up

CONGRATS ON 2K!!! i’m so happy for you. here’s a cookie for you, you deserve it 🍪

💃 prompt 5&6 for everyone’s favourite mass murderer - frank castle. thank youu <3<3<3

— 🍪 received. with love. thank you so much for your request omg. number 6 is SUCH a frank thing like exactly a line i would write for him. hope you like this one!!

— prompts:

💃 5. mm. your warm

💃 6. no— no. it’s alright. come here

— warnings: swearing.

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You stand at his door, dripping rainwater on his very small doorstep. Frank looks at you, wearing nothing but his boxers, with a slightly confused look on his face.

It was true. You had no where else to go. You’d been kicked out of your old apartment, and the place you were staying… well, it wasn’t actually yours, and unfortunately the very rich and very angry owners of the house had made an unexpected trip home.

They, obviously, called the police, which you didn’t want to stick around for, running in the pouring rain to the first place you could think of going. Franks house.

Your relationship was… complicated at best. Most of the time you hated each other, but the few times your interests had aligned, you worked better together than anyone you had teamed up with before. Not to mention Frank Castle stirred up feelings in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, ones you weren’t sure you even still had.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands aside and lets you walk through the doorway, locking it behind you. He disappears into another room, and you try to minimise how much water you drip onto his floor, shuffling out of your shorts and jumper. He’d sewn you up more times than you could count, so being exposed around him wasn’t really something that made you feel anything.

What did make you freeze up was when he came back into the room, the look in his eyes and the way he watched you take the towel and clothes he had brought you, and how you felt his eyes burning holes in your figure.

He turned around to let you dry off, and only when he wasn’t looking at you did he talk.

“You must be desperate. Comin’ here.” You scoff, trying to ring out your hair before sliding a sweater over your body. It smelt like him— his cologne mixed with something sharp and metallic.

“Don’t have a lot of time to make friends, thanks to you.” He had brought you a pair of sweatpants, knowing you’d be freezing, but even the added warmth didn’t stop you from shivering. Frank turned around, hearing you swear at how your teeth were chattering together. “I’m freezing.”

“There’s a uh—fireplace. In my room.” You were already moving, too fucking cold to worry about how he’d practically just invited you to his bed.

His room was small, but there was a lit fireplace surrounded by brick. It was pretty, sure, but also a testament to how old the building was. You wondered why he’d never bothered to move someplace nicer. He could certainly afford it now. At least move to a place built this century.

You sat yourself on the edge of his bed, that was just close enough to the fire to thaw you out. You were still shivering, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the fire long enough to notice Frank walking in, let alone sitting down next to you. Your body moved towards him when the mattress dips to his weight, and you do nothing to stop it.

“I’ll b-be out s-s-soon. Fucking rain j-just…” Your eyes close, trying to focus on stopping yourself from shivering so hard. It was almost exhausting— now you’re out of the rain you can feel how ice-cold it was, chilling you to the bone.

“You’re fine. Not like I got any plans either. Thanks to you.” Your teeth stop banging together long enough to scoff a little. You had both been making a dent in the FBI’s most wanted list, this being a time when your interests seemed to match up.

When he shuffles on the bed next to you, you can almost feel how warm he is through the small distance. His bed is messy from where he’s jumped out of it when you banged on his door, and you are fucking freezing—

You lean into him, your cheek brushing against his shoulder. The sudden contact makes you jerk back, despite how much you need to be close to him. Need him— no, not him. His body heat. You have to remind yourself of that.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, hardly audible above the crackling of fire.

“No— no. It’s alright. Come here.” He moves closer, wrapping his arms around you. His hands cling to you, rubbing along your arm trying to get the feeling to come back to them.

Abandoning any remaining pride, you lean into him again, this time falling into the hard lines of his chest, bringing your legs up and over his so he was practically holding you.

He turns around, keeping one arm holding you, and twists back with a blanket. It’s big and soft, and smells like the jumper he gave you when he wraps it around your shivering body.

“Better?” You nod quickly, afraid to move and lose any of the warmth you’ve started to retain. You also don’t want to risk having him move. You don’t know why you think that, but you just know your body wants to stay as close to him as possible. “You got anyone you needa call?”

“No one.” He nods above you, understanding.

“New roommates kick you out?”

“They didn’t know they had a roommate, so I guess they h-had a fair response.” Frank laughs quietly, and you turn your face upward, seeing a small smile. “Shut up.”

“You couldn’t just get a hotel room?”

“We aren’t all paid by special agents and veteran benefits.”

“Fair.” His arms tighten around you, feeling you still shaking slightly. You aren’t sure it’s from the cold anymore, with how his hand has slipped under the blanket, holding your waist. “Stay here.”

“What?” You sit up in his arms, and your faces are so close that you nearly whack his head.

“Stay here.” You probably look as confused as he did when you first showed up. “I see you every day. Until this shit blows over, and we’re done, stay here.”

You don’t know why he would be kidding, and his face tells you he’s deadly serious. Stay here. With him. Why the hell would he want that?

You have been nothing but a prick in his side since you moved here, getting in his way when he approached on what you claimed to be your mission. You were the one out of line, but here he was, offering you something like safety. Something you hadn’t had in a long time.

“So you can shove me out in the pouring rain, too?” You can’t look at him now, burying your face in his neck. “Way to kick me when I’m down.”

“No rain. Bed’s small, though.”

“You’ll have to be the little spoon.” Nothing is quiet about the way you both laugh, the silence of his small room filled with the light sound. You feel the hand on your waist let go, only to come back further down, around your hip.

“That a yes?” You look up and roll your eyes, but a small nod answers his question. “Alright.”

Apparently, it was that easy. Frank held you there, as close to the fire as you could get without jumping in it, and when you finally started to return to a normal temperature, you felt him shift under you.

“It okay if we…” He was tired, you could tell, and the look on his face had you moving up the small bed, claiming one of the two pillows he used.

Slowly, he laid down next to you, and you couldn’t bare the distance, pulling him closer as soon as he laid down.

“Mm. You’re warm.” You say into the crook of his neck, and he breathes in deeply, one of his hands running along your spine.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Good for something, at least.” At that, he forces you to spin around, and his body presses against your back while his arm wraps around your chest, keeping you bundled in the blankets and him.

“Go to sleep.” His lips brush against the back of your neck, and you can feel his smile when he talks. The intimate gesture sends all the heat you would ever need flooding your veins, and you fall into unconscious at the sound of his breathing.