From fire to shelter to fire.

XXIII · paris

[challenger2753]

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

Love is a gift / that springs from an unlit spot. Resin and rue. / Even when I’m in the dark I’m in the dark with you.

Alice Fulton, from “Triptych for Topological Heart,” Poetry 

[the-mindfield]

First train to Bronx

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am still soft, and I can be like wax in your hands. Take me, give me a form, finish me.

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Collected Prose

[no-str8]

[larmoyante]

But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both.

Sarah Kay, An Origin Story

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Kiss the mouth which tells you, here,here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones.

Galway Kinnell, from Little Sleep’s-Head Sprouting Hair In The Moonlight 

[rebeccajturner]

[litverve]

There isn’t enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance, prevails.

Raymond Carver, The author of her misfortune

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I look to you, through you, for something, a heart that beats / gentle as velvet.

Moira Egan,  Broken Sapphics

[ratandboa]

[poesia-en-la-lengua]

[…] y luego se desnuda, moja mis labios con un sabor a frutas incendiadas…

Adolfo Burriel, América

[pocketdays]

San Fernando, Mayo 2017

[kaytenschmidt-deactivated202304]

Photo by Nastassia Brückin and Kayten Schmidt for Waist

[losmalqueridosdelahumanidad]

Por las calles voy dejando algo que voy recogiendo: pedazos de vida mía, venidos desde muy lejos.

Miguel Hernández, Cancionero y romancero de ausencias

[yama-bato]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am the ocean; the earth; whatever dies for you.

Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems