& still, the waves @firstfullmoon - Tumblr Blog

Sorry, Baby — 2025, dir. Eva Victor

#literally are you okay in your house? I have a cat #films #sorry baby #un chat passant parmi les livres

Pulling out of the old scarred skin (old rough thing I don’t need now I strip off slip out of leave behind) I slough off deadscales flick skinflakes to the ground Shedding toughness peeling layers down to vulnerable stuff And I’m blinking off old eyelids for a new way of seeing By the rock I rub against I’m going to be tender again

Harryette Mullen, "Shedding Skin"

#and I’m blinking off old eyelids for a new way of seeing / I’m going to be tender again #w #poetry

srdcovka

Time: the word tolled like the bells of a church. Fonny was doing: time. In six months' time, our baby would be here. Somewhere, in time, Fonny and I had met; somewhere, in time, we had loved; somewhere, no longer in time, but, now, totally, at time's mercy, we loved.

— James Baldwin, from If Beale Street Could Talk

#book of all time #w #lit #james baldwin

feral-ballad

Aria Aber, from Hard Damage; “Operation Cyclone”

#w #poetry #aria aber #without tenderness we are in hell

allloversbetray

Leaving Home by Ali Shapiro

#or else you were my first wish and I know what I want this time: to remember nothing. then to have everything back #w #poetry #ali shapiro

choysum

joshua mehigan / marie howe / james tadd adcox / olivia gatwood

#the worst thing that can happen happened here #w #comparatives #the harm will come it never doesn’t #also grieftolight typo spotted. I would know her in death at the end of the world etc

mervynbunter

Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968)

#gotta read that one #w #lit #philip k. dick

lunchboxpoems

A VIOLENCE

You hear the high-pitched yowls of strays fighting for scraps tossed from a kitchen window. They sound like children you might have had. Had you wanted children. Had you a maternal bone, you would wrench it from your belly and fling it from your fire escape. As if it were the stubborn shard now lodged in your wrist. No, you would hide it. Yes, you would hide it inside a barren nesting doll you’ve had since you were a child. Its smile reminds you of your father, who does not smile. Nor does he believe you are his. “You look just like your mother,” he says, “who looks just like a fire of suspicious origin.” A body, I’ve read, can sustain its own sick burning, its own hell, for hours. It’s the mind. It’s the mind that cannot.

NICOLE SEALEY

#had you a maternal bone you would wrench it from your belly and fling it from your fire escape #w #poetry #nicole sealey

objetpetita

“‘I have been loved,’ she said, ‘by something strange, and it has forgotten me.’”

― Djuna Barnes, Nightwood

#w #lit #djuna barnes

camilicy

From the archive - all I’ve felt is exhaustion

#art

existential-celestial

“I want to calm down, to rest, to outlive this nonsense.”

— Anne Sexton, from a letter to Dennis Farrell written c. June 1962

#w #letters #anne sexton

absurdityof

“I felt very sad so I sat down. I felt so sad that I rested my head on my own knees and smoothed my own head. I felt so sad I couldn’t imagine feeling any other way again. I said, I don’t like this. I don’t want to do this anymore. And I went back to lying in bed, just before the doorbell rang.”

— Jamaica Kincaid, from “What Have I Been Doing Lately,” At the Bottom of the River (via lifeinpoetry)

#that short story is so very good #w #lit #jamaica kincaid #the blue holds