Kaveh Akbar, from Calling A Wolf A Wolf: Poems; “Personal Inventory: Fearless (Temporis Fila)”

JVL
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Misplaced Lens Cap
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Love Begins
Three Goblin Art

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d e v o n
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@myuntamedworld
Kaveh Akbar, from Calling A Wolf A Wolf: Poems; “Personal Inventory: Fearless (Temporis Fila)”
Making a big beautiful breakfast is the most important act of love
Nikki Giovanni, The Collected Poetry, 1968-1998
— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments
Garden with Courting Couples: Square Saint-Pierre, Trees and Undergrowth, Autumn Garden, and Boulevard de Clichy, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1887 / "Last Kiss" by Taylor Swift
I Contain Multitudes And They Are All Incredibly Annoying
— franz kafka, letters to felice
happy international women’s day <3
I hope my mom heals from the things she doesn’t talk about
“As you read a book word by word and page by page, you participate in its creation, just as a cellist playing a Bach suite participates, note by note, in the creation, the coming-to-be, the existence, of the music. And, as you read and re-read, the book of course participates in the creation of you, your thoughts and feelings, the size and temper of your soul.”
— Ursula K. Le Guin
“I know how unqualified I am to attempt my own translation — I hold no doctorate, no professorship, no permission-slip at all — I am merely a woman who loves this poem. The task of translation itself, however, does not feel unfamiliar to me, not only due to translating my own poems, but because the process feels so close to homemaking. In Italian, the word stanza means ‘room’. If there are times when I feel ill-equipped and daunted by the expertise of those who have walked these rooms before me, I reassure myself that I am simply homemaking, and this thought steadies, because tending to a room is a form of labour I know that I can attempt as well as anyone.”
— Doireann Ní Ghríofa, A Ghost in the Throat
Beth Garrabrant, Folklore
the night shift
you’re who i stay up for. dog-tired, almost-dreaming when i close my eyes - and i still stay up just to keep talking. you wind up in my dreams because i’m not done thinking about you even while i’m asleep. i sit in class and realize: oh shit, not again, i’ve been thinking about you instead of listening. you make me feel like a wet road all lit up in neon lights. you make me feel like a warm fog. you make me feel like june. god. i hope i’m a fraction of this to you.