vicious and headless

i wonder who you're thinking of. 𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙶 𝚃𝙾 @𝚂𝙾𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙵𝙾𝙶

[havingapoemwithyou]

Statement of Teaching Philosophy by Keith Leonard

[soracities]

“The way we relate to the things of the world is [not] as a pure intellect trying to master an object or space that stands before it. Rather, this relationship is an ambiguous one, between beings who are both embodied and limited and an enigmatic world of which we catch a glimpse (indeed which we haunt incessantly) but only ever from points of view that hide as much as they reveal, a world in which every object displays the human face it acquires in a human gaze.”

— Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The World of Perception (trans. Oliver Davis)

[apocryphics]

[thirdity]

“Your masters at Oxford have taught you to idolize reason, drying up the prophetic capacities of your heart!”

— Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose

[havingapoemwithyou]

My Life in the New Millennium By Joshua Clover

[rrondo]

[toiich]

Paris, Texas (1984), dir. Wim Wenders

[silverscreencaps]

Boy and the World (2013) dir. Alê Abreu

[apocryphics]

Ashbery

[patronsaintofweepingmothers]

"three sleeping babies" (2008), susan s.

[lifeinpoetry]

“Where my friend awakens, there is no snow. / Can you imagine it? / She must step into her grief in a world full of sun.”

— — Rachel Mennies, from “December 11, 2016,” The Naomi Letters

[handonmystupidheart]

andrew garfield for gq, 2022

[serratedpens]

Paige Lewis, “When I Tell My Beloved I Miss The Sun”

[919]

[Transcript:

Our shadows get dirty just like anyone’s, so we take them to the Laundromat—the one with

the 1996 Olympics-themed pinball machine— and watch our shadows warm

against each other. We bring the shadow game home and (this is my favorite part) when we

stretch our shadows across the bed, we get so tangled my beloved grips his own wrist,

certain it’s mine, and kisses it.]

[firstfullmoon]

Rafael Campo, from “Views of Heaven,” in Alternative Medicine [ID in alt text]

[rottingfacade]

i love those blinking red lights they put on top of radio towers and windmills and skyscrapers etc, theyre like electronic flowers or something to me

[rottingfacade]

[literarymiscellany]

“We know through hearsay that love exists. Seated on a rock or under a red parasol, lying in the field buzzing with insects, our hands clasped behind our necks, kneeling in the cool darkness of a church, or settled on a straw chair within the four walls of the bedroom, head lowered, eyes fixed on a rectangle of white paper, we dream of estuaries, tumultuous surf, clearing weather and tides. We listen to the inexhaustible chant of the sea within us, as it rises and falls in our heads, like the approach and retreat of the strange desire we have for heaven, for love, and all that we cannot touch with our hands. • Within us the sea tries out sentences. From time immemorial, the same voice spells the same alphabet in the same child’s brain. It mutters words which quickly fly off, snagged on the sea grasses, on the bathers’ browned skin, on the bows of boats, on the masts. Ordinary words, for nothing and no one in particular. It is only about love. This is why we hardly know what to say and we suffer when someone’s gaze fixes on our face, when we would like it to look into our heart. Our lips are so awkward, our body invisible in the opaque night, and our hands inept, yet lightening flashes or wings are at our fingertips.”

— Jean-Michel Maulpoix, from Une Histoire de Bleu / From A Story of Blue

[rosieandthemoon]

Dmitry Kochanovich