blake kathryn
occasionally subtle
Product Placement
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Three Goblin Art
Discoholic 🪩
if i look back, i am lost
Acquired Stardust
Andulka
titsay
Cosimo Galluzzi
art blog(derogatory)
No title available
cherry valley forever
pixel skylines
Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
Origami Around
wallacepolsom
seen from Ireland
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from Spain
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
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seen from Argentina
seen from Türkiye
@andrumedus
I would never tie you down, not even with garlands of roses. I don't want anything from you that doesn't come from your own impulse, like water from the springs.
Dulce María Loynaz, tr. James O’Connor, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “XLVI”
it's rotten work, but without the rot nothing can grow
it's rotten work but decay is an essential part of the cycle of death and rebirth
And in the last seconds before the breaking light, when you are nearly broken with the secret antelope of compassion, when the last guardian angel has flown west to the Pacific to see someone else through their nightly death, a homefire is slowly kindled in the village of your body. And the smoke of dawn turns all your worded enemies into ashes that will never rise. Mythic cattle graze in your throat, washing it with milk. And you will sing forever.
Joy Harjo, In Mad Love and War; “Healing Animal”
I cannot sing song of either staying or leaving unless I know what shape it takes when it leaves my mouth. And which direction, because I forgot to tell you that love changes molecular structure. I am transformed but without a map.
Joy Harjo, In Mad Love and War; “Day of the Dead”
Vikram Seth, from Summer Requiem: A Book of Poems; “Sonnet”
Paul Celan, from “Threadsuns,” from BREATHTURN INTO TIMESTEAD: THE COLLECTED LATER POETRY A BILINGUAL EDITION (translated by Pierre Joris)
ALT
— Natalie Diaz, Manhattan Is a Lenape Word
but to be alive is to forsake the fear of blood.
Joy Harjo, In Mad Love and War; “Bleed Through”
Dig, Bryan Borland
Accepting that life is an endless cycle of clearing space for new people new things and new places
Palestine solidarity graffiti seen around in Saskatchewan, Canada
Mohammed el-Makki Ibrahim, tr. & ed. Adil Babikir, Modern Sudanese Poetry: An Anthology; from “The Green October” in “Songs for October”
[Text ID: The land is singing your green name, O October]
...but here is a heart betrayed by childhood catastrophe, or tormented by original memory, [...]
Joy Harjo, In Mad Love and War; “Original Memory”
Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life
Text ID: I was no one, I had neither name nor face. Moving through August, I was: nothing.
If you prefer, I'll be pure raging meat, or if you prefer, as the sky changes tone, I'll be absolutely tender,
Vladimir Mayakovsky, tr. Bob Perelman & Kathy Lewis, from "A Cloud in Trousers" in Russian Poetry: The Modern Period, ed. John Glad & Daniel Weissbort
Paul Celan, from “Threadsuns,” from BREATHTURN INTO TIMESTEAD: THE COLLECTED LATER POETRY A BILINGUAL EDITION (translated by Pierre Joris)
And someone, tangled in cloudy chains, held out a hand to the cafe and somehow it seemed feminine, and gentle somehow, and somehow like a gun carriage.
Vladimir Mayakovsky, tr. Bob Perelman & Kathy Lewis, from "A Cloud in Trousers" in Russian Poetry: The Modern Period, ed. John Glad & Daniel Weissbort
