what we feel most has no name.

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[sevshell-deactivated20180121]

[lifeinpoetry]

“Let’s call the future heaven / and be done with a romance of the present. / The present was a mistake. / The possibility of anything else is a call to arms.”

— Billy-Ray Belcourt, from “A Romance of the Present,” NDN Coping Mechanisms

[spookyfallseason]

[michaelschauerphoto]

[idleminds]

[lifeinpoetry]

Is it programmatic Or morally basic to say There’s a fucked up glow Inside me my friends Don’t really seem To understand

[…]

Everyone I ever failed Come to forgive me For what I wish They could help me

With.

— Ana Božičević, from “Depression,” published in Brooklyn Rail

[aestheticschaos]

[delta-breezes]

And every year there is a brief, startling moment When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air: It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies; It is the changing light of fall falling on us.

~ Edward Hirsch (via conflictingheart)

[w-i-n-t-e-r-]

[pinkwinged-deactivated20230125]

Irina

Carturesti Carusel

[pinkwinged-deactivated20230125]

Masha Theone

[thelovejournals]

Love someone who is kinder to you than you are to yourself.

Nikita Gill (via thelovejournals)

[fluttering-slips]

After Making Love No one should ask the other “What were you thinking?”

No one, that is, who doesn’t want to hear about the past

and its inhabitants, or the strange loneliness of the present

filled, even as it may be, with pleasure, or those snapshots

of the future, different heads on different bodies.

Some people actually desire honesty. They must never have broken

into their own solitary houses after having misplaced the key,

never seen with an intruder’s eyes what is theirs.

Stephen Dunn 

[leehakjoos]

Notorious (1946) directed by Alfred Hitchcock

[w-a-n-t-e-d]

[fluttering-slips]

For Her

Let it be anywhere on any night you wish, in your room that is empty and dark

or down the street or at those dim frontiers you barely see, barely dream of.

You will not feel desire, nothing will warn you, no sudden wind, no stillness of air.

She will appear, looking like someone you knew: the friend who wasted her life,

the girl who sat under the palm tree. Her bracelets will glitter, becoming the lights

of a village you turned from years ago. Mark Strand

[midnight-killer]