escritorio

gentle anger, anarchism. writing and aesthetic blog

[mud-tongue]

I feel a cold voice over my shoulder

Long white fingers wrap around my waist

Insisting I keep thoughts to myself

Tucking them deep in some internal place

I feel blunt teeth dig into my ear

Tearing as if to let the ringing out,

Out of that grey place where no one can hear

None but I feel that brassy song so devout

I feel blood pool against my eardrums

Those long fingers dig in

Bruising the flesh that is soft

where I wish it were thin

That ringing whisper

that binds shut my mouth

Grows ever louder

Canonizing my doubt

Two fingers are hooked

at the base of my skull

They pry and release what should remain

Beyond the reach of their pull

[kenotype]

Alberto Caeiro

[feral-ballad]

Margartia Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “My whole world aches for you to rest your feet upon it. My tears ache to become stars, to flow between your legs. I want to be inside you.”]

[ghost-honeyy-deactivated2024062]

[danskjavlarna]

Source details and larger version.

For you: an intriguing collection of book dedications.

[nuveau-deco]

Stoppered Bottle. Made by Gorham Manufacturing Company in Rhode Island, ca. 1900. Material components are a blown glass body and a decorative sterling silver frame.

(Source: vmfa.museum)

[walkingwitheyeswideopen]

“Synaptic Overload” All genius is a conquering of chaos and mystery. (Otto Weininger) Inspired by David Lynch’s photo series “Industrial Motives”. Taken at the main station, Cologne (Germany). CC BY-NC-ND 3.0

[sweatermuppet]

poems on grief, loss, mourning

gone is gone by mark wunderlich

another elegy ["this is what our dying looks like"] by jericho brown

making a fist by naomi shihab nye

grief puppet by donte collins

letter to my heart from my brain by rachel mckibbens

the song of despair by pablo neruda

where my grandmother hides by caitlin conlon

grief by matthew dickman

kaddish by sam sax

elegy for neal cassady by allen ginsberg

grief work by natalie diaz

poem for jack spicer by matthew zapruder

elegy with black smoke by emily skaja

evening by dorianne laux

letter to my dead brother part 1 by jonny bolduc

drunktown by jake skeets

hunter by bianca stone

blood makes the blade holy by evan knoll

object permanence by hala alyan

people who died by ted berrigan

song of the insensible by andrew kozma

[chalkrub]

made a little linocut for pixie <:^) miss her so much

[brutalistarchitecture2]

HAMMOND B3 ORGAN CISTERN by GABRIELLE CALVOCORESSI

[extollingtheeveryday]

Maggie Dietz, "November" [ID in alt text]

[thinkingimages]

Goodbyes are inevitable | discarded library book acquired from Michael Dumontier @stoppingoffplace

[the-cricket-chirps]

Alfred Stieglitz

Georgia O'Keeffe, Hands

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“I typically arrive three years too late. I wish I had been able to sit in that white, aromatic kitchen and look you in the face but I was not ready. I was still on my way.”

— Mikko Harvey, from “Wind-Related Ripple in the Wheatfield,” Sixth Finch (Spring 2021)

[kvothes]

it is indeed quite aphoristic and fun to pull individual quotes. but if you want to read “october” by louise glück in its entirety, which i highly recommend, you can find it here

[kvothes]

friends, devastated to report that louise glück passed away today in this very october. if you haven’t read the poem before, i recommend doing so now.

[weepingwidar]

Ernst Steiner (Swiss, 1935) - Untitled (Golgotha) (1975)

[quommunist]

If you have a better option, put it in the notes

Best Opening Line from Classical Lit?

"When, O Catiline, do you mean to cease abusing our patience?"

"All Gaul is divided into three parts ..."

"Arms and the man I sing, who first from the shores of Troy ..."

"My soul is wrought to sing of forms transformed to bodies new and strange!"

"I will sodomize and face-fuck you."

"Must I be a listener forever?"

"The wrath sing, goddess, of Peleus' son, Achilles"

"Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices, who wandered full many ways"

"Release from this weary task of mine has been my plea to the gods"

"I, the son of Zeus, have come to this land of the Thebans— Dionysus"

"How you, men of Athens, have been affected by my accusers, I do not know"

"Really, I want to die; weeping she left me."

Voting ended onOct 13, 2023