dear poetry, dear love

Daily, 25 // Psalm 23:6

[soft-lovely]

The Moretti Library of Rolduc Abbey in Kerkrade, Netherlands

[weltenwellen]

Ocean Vuong, from “Beautiful Short Loser”, Time Is a Mother

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

–Lee Howard

[lizlemondyke]

I think this is my favorite poem.

[luthienne]

“how we climb out of our griefs / again and again and rise”

— Lisel Mueller, from Waving from Shore: Poems; “Great Performances”

[luthienne]

Elena Ferrante, from Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay (translated from the Italian by Ann Goldstein)

[Text ID: maybe, in the face of abandonment, we are all the same; maybe not even a very orderly mind can endure the discovery of not being loved.]

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

I think of you often. I think of you often, and I remember.

– Ahdaf Soueif, from “I Think of You,” I Think of You: Stories (Anchor Books, 2007)

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Theodore Roethke, from “Straw for the fire.”

[larmoyante]

“Nothing that happened makes me special. But my life is a gift that is too great — a debt I can never repay.”

— Thi Bui, The Best We Could Do

[larmoyante]

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.”

— Martha Graham

[larmoyante]

“She wondered whether the books she loved consoled her precisely because they were the manifestations of her own isolation.”

— Rachel Cusk, Arlington Park

[pretty-seasonal]

[neckkiss]

Café de flore

[the-evil-clergyman]

Belle Isoult and Sir Tristram drink the love drought, from The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle (1929)

[soft-lovely]

painting murals in an abandoned villa in tuscany, italy

[danger]

[oasatelematics]

they should invent a past that doesn't beat inside me like a second heart