Lo-fi Lola

same as it never was

[wnwnmemo]

[wnwnmemo]

[wnwnmemo]

[feral-ballad]

Hanif Abdurraqib, I Was Told the Sunlight Was a Cure

[Text ID: “and still, on the days I / want / to be alive the sunlight leaves / me stunned like a kiss”]

[unes23]

Anok Yai at Chloe SS19

[a-ramblinrose]

“But first and foremost, I learned from Whitman that the poem is a temple—or a green field—a place to enter, and in which to feel. Only in a secondary way is it an intellectual thing—an artifact, a moment of seemly and robust wordiness—wonderful as that part of it is. I learned that the poem was made not just to exist, but to speak—to be company.”

― Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays

[grooveland]

[batarde]

Ritual In Transfigured Time (Maya Deren, 1946)

[pussyronin-deactivated20260120]

i wear your grandmas clothes... i look incredible...! - unknown

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

A while back, when we were in the girl's bedroom and she had not yet turned on the light—she wanted to enjoy every last bit of the evening glow coming from the balcony—we had spoken about the objects. As the light faded we could feel them nestling in the shadows as if they had feathers and were preparing for sleep. She said they developed souls as they came in touch with people. Some had once been something else and had another soul (the ones with legs had once had branches, the piano keys had been tusks). But her balcony had first gained a soul when she started to live in it.

– Felisberto Hernández, from “The Balcony,” Piano Stories (Eridanos, 1993)

[softestaura]

Vittoria Ceretti by Vito Fernicola for D la Repubblica Magazine

[lunchboxpoems]

TO BE BRAVE, I LOOK TO THE DAFFODIL

To be brave, I look to the daffodil. A stupid flower, I’ve always thought – too eager to enter a world not fully thawed. Shrinking  after just one cold night. I surround myself with pluck. Always one for adventure: running naked  across campus into a stranger’s car as rite of passage, jumping into the freezing bay. Hitchhiking home but afraid to speak in class. To order in my mother’s tongue, my mother’s food. I let the dark take on its own shapes, unchecked. No, I am not brave, but I like the people who are. Who never overprepare or let their anxieties  stop them. For whom things always work out.  I’m chasing the high from one novelty to another, wanting adventure but so unwilling to find it on my own. Instead, I lose myself in people who live unafraid. Bravery by osmosis. This might be the truest thing I say today and it scares me. To admit that on my own, I was never wild. All this time I thought the daffodil’s dropped  petals, the green leaves that remained, marked an ending.  But underground she is rebuilding for next spring.  For when she’ll dare, again, to push through the frostbitten earth. Year after year, it goes on like this.

SUSAN NGUYEN

[lamignonette]

[illyadarling]

[illyadarling]

[tierras]

paloma wool spring ⋆ summer 2024

[blackpyrefly]

So fucking Awesome