i have been knotted; i have been torn apart

[metaphorformetaphor]

The landscape will change. I know it will. There’s a dream to believe in about not falling down. I can hold comets in my hand, grab each star out of your eyes & make new pictures by connecting those SOS dots & dashes, but the only thing I can’t do is something I haven’t done. […] The brightest words I can think of are grey & lonely.

Nate Pritts, “Icicles Glinting in Sunlight,” Right Now More Than Ever: Poems (H_ NGM_ N BOOK, 2013)  (via metaphorformetaphor)

[lifeinpoetry]

We know Lilith ate the bones of her enemies. We know a bitch learns to love her own ghost.

— Erika L. Sánchez, from “All of Us,” published in Poem-a-Day

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

and I mean you and nobody but  you.

Charles Bukowski, from You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense; “Relentless as the Tarantula,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[lifeinpoetry]

The depth of trauma and how close it cuts to the bone shouldn’t be the evidence we need of how loved we were                 /           yet we want it         that absence as a weapon         it is a chalk outline

— Legacy Russell, from “post-truth / new year’s song” published in Berfrois

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I waited for you calmly, with infinite patience. I waited for you hungrily, just short of desperate.

Stephen Dunn, from New and Selected Poems, 1974-1994; “The Waiting,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Her blood is dancing, she wants to live, and there is no life here.

Anton Chekhov, from The Complete Stories; “In Exile,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

my brain will never be as true as these / struck leaves letting go.

Anne Sexton, from To Bedlam and Partway Back: Poems; “The Double Image,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[metaphorformetaphor]

I write very simple and very naked. That’s why it wounds. I’m a gray and blue landscape. I rise in a dry fountain and in the cold light.

Clarice Lispector, from A Breath of Life, transl. by Johnny Lorenz (New Directions, 2012; first published 1978)

[theartistsmanifesto]

The Witching Hour by Andrew Wyeth (ca. 1977).

[metaphorformetaphor]

— and that’s what I struggle to attain. To forget oneself and yet to live so intensely.

Clarice Lispector, from A Breath of Life, transl. by Johnny Lorenz (New Directions, 2012; first published 1978)

[thatattoozone-deactivated201710]

@ xotaraxojoanxo

[wordsnquotes]

She did not want to move, or to speak. She wanted to rest, to lean, to dream. She felt very tired.

Virginia Woolf, The Years (via interlvm)

[mossgirl]

Tomi Ungerer, from the Underground Sketchbook (1964).

[formato-grafico-interminable]

Ruptura. 

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

…I am afraid of finding unhappy thoughts again.

Paul Valéry, from The Collected Works of Valéry: An Anthology; “A,B,C,” (via mythaelogy)

[lifeinpoetry]

can a girl outlive      her myth, bullet

hole her song      & give every space

a mouth

— Kristin Chang, from “War Song,” published in Two Peach

[lifeinpoetry]

if the body is a house, was I burning it in protest?

Nina Puro, from “Woman Crying in a Gallery,” published in Big Lucks (via lifeinpoetry)