from Bhanu Kapil’s The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers
untitled
Show & Tell
$LAYYYTER
The Stonewall Inn

titsay

PR's Tumblrdome

gracie abrams
KIROKAZE
we're not kids anymore.
NASA
todays bird

★

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
sheepfilms
will byers stan first human second
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n

@theartofmadeline
Keni

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Bangladesh

seen from Vietnam

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from Colombia

seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Taiwan

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Australia
@journalofsolitude
from Bhanu Kapil’s The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers
Louise Glück
Helene Cixous, Angst
Amelia Rosselli
John Thorpe, “I Just Lost My Tension Again”
Louise Glück
John Thorpe, “I Just Lost My Tension Again”
James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room
Liliana Ponce
throne of blood, cassandra troyan
from Clover, Louise Glück
Sappho, from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho; tr. by Anne Carson
Mona Sa’udi, from Women of the Fertile Crescent: An Anthology of Modern Poetry by Arab Women (ed. & trans. Kamal Boullata)
[Text ID: “I shatter in all my dimensions I multiply I take on shapes like water.”]
from ‘the cave’, loose sugar by brenda hillman
Louise Glück
It seems to me that the desire to make art produces an ongoing experience of longing, a restlessness sometimes, but not inevitably, played out romantically, or sexually. Always there seems something ahead, the next poem or story, visible, at least, apprehensible, but unreachable. To perceive it all is to be haunted by it; some sound, some tone, becomes a torment—the poem embodying that sound, seems to exist somewhere already finished. It's like a lighthouse, except that, as one swims toward it, it backs away.
Louise Glück, from "Education of the Poet" in Proofs & Theories - Essays on Poetry
I think language is beautiful. I even think insanity is beautiful (surely the root of language), except that it is painful. July 3, 1964 Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters First published: 1977