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Mike Driver
todays bird
JBB: An Artblog!
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything
Kiana Khansmith
ojovivo
DEAR READER
tannertan36
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Peter Solarz
blake kathryn
trying on a metaphor
tumblr dot com
d e v o n
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
h
we're not kids anymore.
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seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
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@0-rin
“I think of you often these spring days, wishing I had known more of you to miss, your face looking at me again from a few black & white photos. I rearrange our story with the narrative of your smile.”
— Greg Sellers, from an untitled, unfinished poem, n.d.
“There is a place in the heart that will never be filled a space and even during the best moments and the greatest times times we will know it we will know it more than ever there is a place in the heart that will never be filled and we will wait and wait in that space.”
— Charles Bukowski (via lazypacific)
“You haunt my days because you live in my nights.”
— Hortensia Anderson, from “Recurrence,” The Plenitude of Emptiness: Collected Haibun (Darlington Richards, 2010)
James McAvoy as Robbie Turner Atonement (2007) dir. Joe Wright
“My life has been one long longing.”
— Elizabeth Wurtzel, from Prozac Nation (Houghton Mifflin, 1994)
“Nothing between us, so near I hear your skin whisper What you could never tell Of the longing that called us”
— John O’Donohue, from “Imagined Origins,” Conamara Blues: Poems (Cliff Street Books, 2001)
A day in the life with a young Jane Fonda in New York City in November 1959.
“Leave your body, too, if you’d like. // In my country I dreamed of leaving / my body all the time.”
— — Darrel Alejandro Holnes, from “Tú,” Stepmotherland
“Memory demands so much, / it wants every fiber / told and retold. / It gives and gives / but for a price,”
— Denise Levertov, from “Memory demands so much,” This Great Unknowing: Last Poems (New Directions, 1999) (via luthienne)
Before the Ballet (detail), 1892, Edgar Degas
https://www.wikiart.org/en/edgar-degas/before-the-ballet-detail-1892
“I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because romantic doesn’t mean sugary. It’s dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain.”
— Catherine Breillat, “Interview by Martin Tsai,“ The New York Sun
Poppies, 1919, Henri Matisse
Medium: oil,canvas
If all this ends,
let me say now that in my solitude I pace around the winter you pressed me up
against my kitchen wall. You were an appeal to my loneliness, not its end. We
swallowed the white light, chanted the same lament down.
— Taylor Johnson, from “Brooklyn Poem,” Inheritance
By the Mediterranean, 1895, Henri-Edmond Cross
Medium: oil,canvas
currently dreaming about the first warm day of spring
