NASA
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wallacepolsom
@theartofmadeline
PR's Tumblrdome
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
JVL
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second
cherry valley forever
Cosimo Galluzzi
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
todays bird
noise dept.
Kiana Khansmith
occasionally subtle
seen from United Kingdom
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@ishmaelhorowitz-blog
Moths in amber are the memories of our time together.
Beautiful as Alcatraz on a rainy ghost filled-night or a brilliant coastal train ride morn.
But moths in amber do not live do not move.
They come to flight through the word.
Sent in flight through ether borne but spoken across a pillow nonetheless
Bad Good Mom on the L Train
Scene on subway played out in silence:
Baby teen daughter mad at mom, Bedford Avenue platform. She’s late to rehearsal, mom’s fault and who know why.
Mom upset, wants an apology and gets none back.
Turns her back to baby teen, and walks away down the platform as baby teen follows like a little hurt lamb. A begrudging sorry on the train at Union Square, And the two ride in chastised and chastising silence the rest of the way.
And a smile shared as they get off at 8th, short and pregnant with love.
Where is the Nubia of lore?
Where is the Nubia of lore, Where now in this world of hard edges? Where time is measured in bits and bytes - a fiber optic bore. Nubia is where you live - where your eyes glow and your lips shimmer - behind your third eye. In a sandalwood scented gaze.
the begging bowl of a San Francisco night May 15, 2017
i sing the life upended!
Lear like, i reject the old man's begging bowl.
no - inside myself the howling monk, with eyes that seek
the darkened ellis streets of my soul.
where jazz talking con girls, old and beautiful, run candy stores of sleight of hand
bearing behind guarded eyes lives measured in pain
and dead babes not known by the men, the dead babies.
i stop my eyes and ears - one of those men.
i race it back to safety to my hotel room,
my hands, bringing blast off blasts - explore as they probe my skin my flesh still smooth and responsive as palms run along my thighs and some and i draw breath - the breath of life unwilling to slow and merge.
i sing the body upended!
i sing the life connected!
learnt from the words of savio, my 60s mind seeks now to connect to black braided queer girls,
singing poems of the heart, slammed to the loving eyes of berkeley boys.
and i sing out my lonely words to an island girl
who once caught me, tractor beam of eyes and face
and calmed my racing mind.
yes i beg - but not for less or void or only notness
i beg to lie against the skin and snore of life,
that sounding board of musky sweet
and by connecting so i water life surrounding
and make all ripe to eat.