and a softness came from the starlight and filled me to the bone

Alice ......................................... Dunno how much longer I'll be at this, but, for now, this is just a collection of ideas, poetry, art...~~ that interests or inspires me. I'm trying to "grow". Trying not to be frightened. My 'advice' tag is for you, if you are having a bad day.

[raeb-log]

i call out for mother & in walks the knife. it breathes. i call for their god & down comes the guillotine. my / father faints. it / ruins me: this urge to press myself back into the earth, to be weeping— / —willowed back to god. to forget, i interlace the hand with the ribcage. the doctors don’t want me to do that again. i forget / that all my friends are a childhood away […]

– ‘from morton’ — lahraeb munir

[expressions-of-nature]

by Vladimir Ryabkov

[iamhavingsomuchfun]

[niktipolos]

from Catastrophe is Next to Godliness by Franny Choi

[galacticwindss]

Made me think of Charles Wright's Clear Night -

I want to be bruised by God.

I want to be strung up in a strong light and singled out.

I want to be stretched, like music wrung from a dropped seed.   

I want to be entered and picked clean.

And - just went and read the whole of Choi's poem. God god god.

[galacticwindss]

I am too pure for you or anyone. Your body Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern—— My head a moon Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive. Does not my heat astound you! And my light! All by myself I am a huge camellia Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush. I think I am going up, I think I may rise—— The beads of hot metal fly, and I love, I Am a pure acetylene Virgin Attended by roses, By kisses, by cherubim, By whatever these pink things mean! Not you, nor him Nor him, nor him (My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats)—— To Paradise.



--Sylvia Plath, from Fever 103°

[projectiondepartment]

every time it rains i think of that raymond carver poem. poetry is like prayer to me methinks. or an incantation

[projectiondepartment]

this one btw

[bakwaaas]

Yoshie Kakimoto / Tetsuhiro Wakabayashi / Ulla Thynell / Chuck Groenink

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

Visit Original Link

Lana Del Rey, “Blue Bannisters (slowed & reverbed),” originally released on Blue Bannisters LP (Interscope Records, 2021)

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

It is a dark fall day. The earth is slightly damp with rain. I hear a jay. The cry is blue. I have found you in the story again. Is there another word for ‘divine’? I need a song that will keep sky open in my mind. If I think behind me, I might break. If I think forward, I lose now. Forever will be a day like this Strung perfectly on the necklace of days, Slightly overcast Yellow leaves Your jacket hanging in the hallway Next to mine.

Joy Harjo, “Fall Song” Conflict Resolutions for Holy Beings: Poems (W. W. Norton & Co., 2015)

[cansu-m]

[galacticwindss]

ferns or trees or japanese ink paintings! 

[sonhodehibisco]

Flowers by Irving Penn

[galacticwindss]

Hey, I think you've been hacked. I just got tagged in a ray band post by you...

Ugh yes, you're right! Sorry about that (and to anyone else who got tagged). I've deleted those posts.

[geisternatur]

iceland aerials by zack seckler.

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

Give me the names for things, just give me their real names, Not what we call them, but what They call themselves when no one’s listening–

Charles Wright, from “The Writing Life” in Appalachia (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1998); Worth a reblog for new followers

[galacticwindss]

“I would give all metaphors in return for one word drawn out of my breast like a rib for one word contained within the boundaries of my skin”

Zbigniew Herbert,  from I Would Like to Describe

[24hoursinthelifeofawoman]

[mrsclarkkent]

et Dieu… créa la femme, 1956

[barcarole]

[sonnywortzik]

Martyrolog, Andrei Tarkovsky.

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

What was happening in my heart? I could have told you It hurt. I could have told you I was in love With something, every second, I did not know how to name,

Much less touch. I think I could have said When egrets lifted into the sky of my grandmother’s yard From the green-scummed water of the Tangipihoa

I hated them for their whiteness, for the light Lift of their wingspan, for how they wheeled and vanished. Everything I loved went on without me.

T. R. Hummer, from section XIX of “Bluegrass Wasteland,” Bluegrass Wasteland: Selected Poems (Arc, 2005)

[milamaiart]

An early foggy morning in a cabin by the lake, Finland. Sound on ;) (by Milamai)