poetry from the witchs altar

ritual/nature/pain/death

[ofthelostandfound-deactivated20]

Don’t ask who’s the bloodhound, who’s the hare, when there’s a chase to be made: the clarity of a cardinal direction clicking into place. And: the quickening—the tendons that appear, sudden, when the distant, rabid howl of hunters rolls across the tree line, and you lift your head in greeting.

- Franny Choi from 'PERIHELION: A HISTORY OF TOUCH'; Soft Science

[clytaemnestragf]

what does love mean? / the song of achilles, madeline miller / the raven king, maggie stiefvater

[o66e]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to Andonis Anemoyannis c. Dec. 1902

[saintmachina]

“for dinner: black bread, brown mushrooms, the poetry of Goethe: ‘Dove calling softly to dove — Tell me, what grave is this?’ the body, only the body, warm in my arms, warm in my hair, warm like the sun. I’m aching. you’re saying: ‘God, I could drown in your scent. You are as a garden, woman, you are the peony and the blackbird.’ ah: let me rill, then. let me perfume the air with my breath — so sweetly that the wine in your veins will honey, so holy that the veal will tender and char and grow crust of herbs, rosemary and ienibahar, pink peppercorns, crushed. is this to your liking, my wolf? is it to your lust? your hand on my thigh says: ‘Yes.’ ah — such games lovers may play in the candle of the knife…!”

—   a deux   november 18th, 2019  / /  lianna schreiber (via ragewrites)

[cruellheaven]

“Now tell me your story till the blood drips from your lashes.”

— Adrienne Rich, from The Fact Of A Doorframe; Poems Selected & New, 1950 - 2001: “Shooting Script”  (via tristealven)

[blackberryofferings]

you and i stifle laughter in our booth remembering old jokes - making new ones. we laugh but underneath our open smiles i know you hold my heart back when i feel like it’ll burst and gently kiss the scrapes on my knees. we laugh but underneath your rosy cheeks you know i bask in the glow of you telling me how you love your daughter. i catch the secondhand smoke of your adoration and turn away to cough so you don’t see my shining eyes. we run across the street but underneath our clasped hands and strained eyes struggling in the weak streetlamp light i know you relax into the warm depth of my own darkness like bathwater. in another life i might have kissed you. in this one it is my joy to laugh with you.

[blackberryofferings]

you made me a cold hard bitch

and wondered why you got frostbite

[blackberryofferings]

prayers trickle over stained lips

stained hands

stained pages

candles glow warm illuminating the dark

the wax beads and drips into shiny hard puddles

time slows down in ritual ecstasy

your eyes roll back

and you are free

[blackberryofferings]

i cry tears of blackberry wine