[lifeinpoetry]

“and all that I was before / is out there in the darkness looking for / me”

— Annelyse Gelman, from “Hassan’s Rumpus Room,” Heck Land: The Resorted Text

[rosewater1997]

“My God, my God, whose performance am I watching? How many people am I? Who am I? What is this space between myself and myself?”

— Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet

[mortalpractice]

I don’t ever go in the bathroom and cry, but I think about how I could if I really had to and that takes the edge off. My husband is so sweet, cutting onions as he says, “Let’s just move to California. Or let’s just move to Ohio. Or Spokane. Let’s pack the car for Spokane.” He’s trying to make up for a time when he didn’t love me this much, but it’s enough and it’s made up. I’m just afraid we’ll get wherever and wherever will be here again. “I don’t think it will work,” I say. “Of course it won’t work,” he says. “You’re trying to outrun death. But the ocean, the boxes, the little fears of starting, it will be years before you feel it again.” He means home’s hot breath on the back of our necks. “This is what people do?” I ask, wiping my eye quick, so our five-year-old, skipping through the kitchen doesn’t see. “It’s one of the things they do,” he says. — Kathryn Nuernberger, from “Letter Home,” published in 32 Poems

[ana-elisabeta]

[thefinefriend1]

“the summer skirt” thelinebyk ‘17

[wellyfullofale]

I think next thursday is gonna be the best day of my entire life tbh

[thequeenofsunflowers-deactivate]

reblog for next thursday to be the best day of your life

[palmvaults]

Alcan Metal Ceilings Mall, 1985

[freshmoviequotes]

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

[bostonpoetryslam]

You can hurt me like late for curfew, crashed the car. I can hurt you like home’s an ache no one believes.

Kemi Alabi, “No More White Girls, Or What I Learned From Father,” published in Kweli (via bostonpoetryslam)

[bepeu-deactivated20171202]

[endless-unfolding]

I didn’t fall in love. I fell through it: Came out the other side moments later, hands full of matter, waking up from the dream of a bullet tearing through the middle of my body. —Sarah Manguso, from “Love Letter (Clouds),” Siste Viator (Four Way Books, 2006)

[1992dylan]

[puppetwithapistol-deactivated20]

Gisele Bündchen in “Natural High” by Mario Testino for Vogue UK, February 1999.

[weltenwellen]

I was in a place where nobody knew my heart even a little bit.

Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home (via abdullah-ryf)

[lifeinpoetry]

how else to get touched. but admitting: this hurts / everywhere, it hurts it hurts.

Franny Choi, from “SM,” published in HEArt Online  (via weltenwellen)

[equatorjournal]

national geographic, 1978

[thosewhoalways]