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bostonpoetryslam

“I believe in poems as I do haunted houses. We say, someone must have died here.”

— Rosa Alcalá, “Voice: An Essay,” from MyOTHER Tongue

witchoria

Don’t. Fuck. This. Up.

robertmitchum

BEGINNERS dir. Mike Mills

franken-fan

Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown | 12x01 | Kenya

oldnix-nootz

Burro’s Tail

woolfdyke-deactivated20201127

famous last words that make me go feral and tender at the same time

— “Happy.” Raphael (1520)

— “I’m still learning.” Michelangelo (1564)

— “A great leap in the dark.” Thomas Hobbes (1679)

— “It has all been most interesting.” Mary Wortley Montagu (1762)

— “Now is not the time for making new enemies.” Voltaire, when asked by a priest to renounce Satan before his death (1778)

— “Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.“ Alexander Pushkin, Russian poet, to his wife (1837)

— "Take courage, Charlotte; take courage.” Anne Brontë, to her sister Charlotte Brontë (1849)

— "I must go in, for the fog is rising.“ Emily Dickinson (1886)

— "Now comes the mystery.“ Henry Ward Beecher (1887)

— "Pull up the shades; I don’t want to go home in the dark.“ O. Henry (1910)

— "Swing low, sweet chariot.“ Harriet Tubman (1913)

— "It’s very beautiful over there.“ Thomas Edison (1931)

— "I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been." Virginia Woolf to her husband (1941)

— "Are you happy? I’m happy." Ethel Barrymore (1959)

— "I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don’t worry too much." Rob Hall, to his wife (1996)

— "A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.” Leonard Nimoy (2015)

— "I want to be with Carrie." Debbie Reynolds (2016)

luvvewan

“Why are you at a party if you’re sad?”

Beginners (2010)

porchbirds

twentyone

Remember Sunday. The glass between our fingers & stars in the pavement. Of course the earth slips toward you. Caves, they say. Meanwhile, gnashing & cruel & perfect all your harms reverse. Ugly little music of love, or something like love. The knife, the wound, and the body fall– How alone. To be the center of everything. To crack like teeth on a tile floor. Forgiveness is a story we tell ourselves to sleep. I tie my mouth for you. I take my hands in my own hands. I put them to my neck. This is touch, I say. I leave a mark. I do it all again.