"Poems are not written...", Andrey Voznesensky (translated by metamorphesque)
styofa doing anything
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⣠Chile in a Photography ā£
Keni
trying on a metaphor
Show & Tell
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

pixel skylines
Jules of Nature

JVL

blake kathryn

Janaina Medeiros

Origami Around
Peter Solarz
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
AnasAbdin
$LAYYYTER

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@dankaura
"Poems are not written...", Andrey Voznesensky (translated by metamorphesque)
desired by many
taken by none
understood by few
guided by One
hardened by nature
softened by love
as so below
so as above
ā merry meet, merry part, & merry meet again
Never compete
never compare
always content
always aware.
Brief Poems, Vera Pavlova
There are still places in which you can pour yourself without any purpose nor cause nor intention nor plan and that in itself is an ignition for a strange sort of grace that extends beyond circumstance.
Itās something of a recurrent renaissance to romanticize - if not capitalize on - the ways in which we cope with guilt, shame, despair, dejection, etc.
I talk often with colleagues how weāre living in a time that may as well be considered a historic pinnacle. What if archeologists hundreds of years in the future regarded us in the same light we regard the worldās pyramids, Teslaās coil, and pre-colonial medicine?
I used to be in awe of historic renaissances, but from a place of wishing to be there, not here; when there may be some brown-eyed trauma-stricken bookworm aching for the current one we reside in 300 years in the future.
āCome over, sheās cooking tonight,ā
ā a love letter
Blaming others for my baggage is akin to yelling at someone because I have this heavy luggage of unread letters addressed solely to me. Now I can understand why itās said to carry oneself with grace. I can acknowledge that slow, individually curated pace thatās said to come with opening oneself up.
some call it antiquing others call it time traveling
some call it history others call it myth
some call it prayer others call it manifestation
some call it a pattern others call it a prophecy
When I was younger I collected things I can hold
Now that Iām getting older I find myself collecting more things that I canāt like
Stories about childhood
Sunlight
Jokes over coffee
Presence
Observing love being exchanged
Catch-up conversations
Time for being unproductive
Time for being hella productive
Discipline
Smiles, waves, and bows
fyodor dostoevsky (the brothers karamazov), charles bukowski (a vote for the gentle light)
czesÅaw miÅosz, from the poem "hope"
i imagine the tower of babel to be more of a multi subdivision hotel with gated accesses to secret buildings that are somehow both on and off site, rather than like, the tower of pisa
arithmetic has an incredible sense of humor.
Japan trip, 2023
A small fraction
2/2
Japan trip, 2023
A small fraction
1/2
The reconciliation between imagination and reality
Daydreaming about houses overgrown with climbing plants