[theoptia]

Vicente Huidobro, from The Poet Is a Little God: Creationist Verse (English and Spanish Edition) translated by Jorge García-Góme; “Bay Rum”

Text ID: Those burning flames / Prayer or song

[theoptia]

Hélène Cixous, from The Book of Promethea

Text ID: I who am girded in suspicions, am feathered in forebodings, arguments, word constructions, loaded down with expectations, with experience, with a memory that is heavy and impure.

[fleur-jaeggy]

I’ve always loved the thing that rivers do, where they bring elsewhere into a place and then carry things out of a place.

— Alice Oswald in The Art of Poetry No. 119, The Paris Review

[cottaegecore]

[sakurabreeze]

“The air was blue, you could hold it in your hand. Blue. The sky was the continual throbbing of the brilliance of the light. The night lit up everything, all the country on either bank of the river as far as the eye could reach. Every night was different, each one had a name as long as it lasted.”

— Marguerite Duras, The Lover (via theperfumemaker)

[enchantedbook]

Drunk Skeletons by Vlad Gradobyk

[soracities]

Charles Wright, from "A Journal of One Significant Landscape", The World of Ten Thousand Things: Poems 1980-1990 [ID'd]

[weltenwellen]

Hanif Abdurraqib, They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us

[feral-ballad]

Kevork Emin, from Anthology of Armenian Poetry, ed. & tr. by Diana Der Hovanessian and Marzbed Margossian; "The waiting"

[soracities]

"not nobler, just there."

Derek Walcott, from "Sea Canes", Collected Poems: 1948-1984 [ID'd]

[weltenwellen]

Czeslaw Milosz, tr. by Robert Haas, from “Late Ripeness”, Second Space: New Poems

[resolution1003]

Coming to Writing - Hélène Cixous

[funeral]

Seniors at Vassar College, 1895

[voirlvmer]

“Someone who is perennially surprised that depravity exists, who continues to feel disillusioned (even incredulous) when confronted with evidence of what humans are capable of in the way of gruesome, hands-on cruelties upon other humans, has not reached moral or psychological adulthood. No one after a certain age has the right to this kind of innocence, of superficiality, to this degree of ignorance, or amnesia.”

— Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others (via bluebeardsbride)

[noleavestoblow]

"Who can say what it counts for, but I believe not nothing. That I’ve rested my head on the ground beside it. That in what was left of the light I sang to it."

-Carl Phillips

[weltenwellen]

Joanna Klink, from “Night Sky”, The Nightfields

[typewriter-worries]

2025

this time will pass anyways.

not every haunting is a horror.

there are things that trying solves but this is not one of them.

the rain will never stop falling.

leap too into the light if given the chance.

let's not hurt each other if we can.

you are everything that has not yet been lost.