[pink111shit]

[librarycards]

i am just moved by everything now. i'm porous and everything gets inside me

[metamorphesque]

"Don’t court Loneliness", Tathev Simonyan

[prophetic-memory]

Mary Oliver, "Flare"

[cor-ardens-archive]

The Fall of the House of Usher (1928, Jean Epstein)

[funeral]

Elaine Showalter, The Female Malady: Women, Madness, and English Culture, 1830–1980

[fragrantblossoms]

Man Ray. Lilies, 1925.

[vivalasigh]

Jericho Brown, "To Be Asked for a Kiss"

[feral-ballad]

Carrie Fountain, from Burn Lake; “Experience”

[lifeinpoetry]

I am, in most parts, made / entirely of longing.

— Saddiq Dzukogi, from Book Three, Bakandamiya

[lifeinpoetry]

“I was carving my name into your side and you were calling me soft, calling me gentle. I do not think you were paying attention.”

— Trista Mateer, from “For the One Who Loved My Hands More than Anything Else,” The Dogs I Have Kissed

[weltenwellen]

Wildness Before Something Sublime Leila Chatti

[badnights]

Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh

[pollen]

Mary Oliver, from "Such Singing in the Wild Branches"

[metamorphesque]

— James Baldwin, They Can’t Turn Back

[theoptia]

Hélène Cixous, from The Book of Promethea

Text ID: I exist, I am, don't come near, I have teeth, I have claws.

[adrasteiax]

“Love-soaked, rain-soaked— if people ask which drenched your sleeves, what will you say?”

— Izumi Shikibu, from The Ink Dark Moon [translated by Jane Hirshfield with Aratani Mariko]