hey, dorothea

23.

[tristealven]

“How much of the world must we pass through to arrive at ourselves?”

— — Natalie Wee, from “Listen I Love You Joy Is Coming,” Beast at Every Threshold (via lifeinpoetry)

[luthienne]

Hieu Minh Nguyen, from This Way to The Sugar: Poems; "My First"

[Text ID: I won't tell you how I survived the wreckage. / This story doesn't leave the ocean floor.]

[unaliveish]

nkd intersection

[feral-ballad]

Ijeoma Umebinyuo, from Questions for Ada; “Ada”

[cottaqecore]

olivia pierce

[lifeinpoetry]

I wish I could peel all my sadness in one long strip off my skin & toss it in a bucket. No one would have to carry it. It would just sit there & be punished. It would just sit there & think about everything it’s done.

— Chen Chen, from “Elegy for My Sadness,“ published in Breakwater Review

[remanence-of-love]

[remanence-of-love]

[feral-ballad]

Adrienne Rich, from Diving into the Wreck; “Song”

[heavensghost]

[misswallflower]

‘How long does it take to forget a face’

by Sophie Barbasch

[localbookshop]

Jean-Paul Sartre, The Selected Essays

[nikest]

“Anatomy of a Hug” by Luna Lu

[firstfullmoon]

“In the evening my griefs come to me one by one. They tell me what I had hoped to forget. They perch on my shoulders like mourning doves. They are the color of light fading.”

— Linda Pastan, from “Old Woman,” The Five Stages of Grief (W. W. Norton & Company, 1978)

[werenotreallystrangers]

[spitblossoms]

[feral-ballad]

Anna Akhmatova, tr. by Lenore Mayhew and William Mcnaughton, from Poem Without A Hero and Selected Poems; “In a dream”