so long, lonesome.

The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours.

[taliasburns]

#when someone suddenly turns off the music (while you were singing to it) 

[dailyvillanelle]

villanelle + her hands in her pockets

[lifeinpoetry]

Like an electrified city, she writes her tune, in cursive, all over my body— don’t blink, so you can walk wearing nothing but flame.

— Nathalie Handal, from “Ta’bien Negra,” published in Prairie Schooner

[unclefather]

[kafkasapartment]

House in the Dune Grass, Ballston Beach, Truro, Massachusetts, 1987. Joel Meyerowitz. Dye coupler

[theclassicsreader]

Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves.

James Joyce, Ulysses (via theclassicsreader)

[whitepeopletwitter]

A strong contender for tweet of the year, already.

[littlestarlost]

okay wow

[kimheeaes]

Sinnamon roll

[ivan-shishkin]

The Field of WheatMedium: oil,canvas

https://www.wikiart.org/en/ivan-shishkin/the-field-of-wheat-1878

[humorblr]

Zach Quinto Was Busted for His Fake Starbucks Name

[leahberman]

azul breath

hot creek geological site, mono county, california

instagram

[redlipstickresurrected]

[conflictingheart]

Alena Aenami aka Alena Velichko aka Алёна Величко (Ukrainian, b. Zaporizhia, Ukraine) - 1: Sketches 002, 2017  2: Dreamer, 2018  3: Sketches 003, 2018  4: Any Minute Now, 2016  5: Eclipse, 2017  6: Sketches 001, 2016  7: Sketches, 2016  Digital Arts: Paintings  Instagram  Facebook

[luthienne]

You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen to the enormous waterfalls of the sun. And anyway it’s the same old story— a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive. Mostly, I want to be kind.

Mary Oliver, from New and Selected Poems (via pigmenting)

[lifeinpoetry]

We are the skeletons in our closets. We set ourselves on fire for the things we can no longer say.

— Karese Burrows, from “A Brief Story about Love,” This Is How We Lost Each Other

[nevver]

Postcards from the edge, Laurent Rosset

[fuckyeahrudyfrancisco]

The first time I heard my name in your mouth, the ground felt like a language I haven’t spoken in years. I forgot everything I knew about gravity.

Rudy Francisco, “Gravity” (via wildfairy)

[pigmenting]

I’m learning so many different ways to be quiet. There’s how I stand in the lawn, that’s one way. There’s also how I stand in the field across from the street, that’s another way because I’m farther from people and therefore more likely to be alone. There’s how I don’t answer the phone, and how I sometimes like to lie down on the floor in the kitchen and pretend I’m not home when people knock. There’s daytime silent when I stare, and a nighttime silent when I do things. There’s shower silent and bath silent and California silent and Kentucky silent and car silent and then there’s the silence that comes back, a million times bigger than me, sneaks into my bones and wails and wails and wails until I can’t be quiet anymore. That’s how this machine works.

Ada Limón, “The Quiet Machine” in Bright Dead Things (via pigmenting)