NAKED

writing. facebook. twitter. last.fm. "A poem is a naked person. Some people say I am a poet." --Bob Dylan Occasional bouts of misanthropy, but if you wear that velvet dress... var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-34999464-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();

[lifeinpoetry]

Isn’t it good, god, to hold a miracle

between your teeth & bite as hard

as your kindness allows—

— Natalie Wee, from “Blue Moon,” Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines

[fluttering-slips]

Interstate 680 Adoration Poem

I remember you were driving me home and you were talking, and as you talked you looked at me, then looked at the road, and I was looking at you, and I remember how alone I felt with you, how you curved your car on the hill, and I could see BART, and the other cars on the road, but I just remember how it only felt it was the two of us in the world, and I remember just looking at you as you talked, as we looked at each other and I was hoping that you would miss the exit to my house that you would keep driving to Benicia, Sacramento, LA all I wanted was to stay in that car with you I still wanted that aloneness with you. As you kept on driving as we kept on looking at each other as the other cars passed us by. Jennifer Gibbons

[mesogeios]

In Icelandic the word for light is ljós And the word for poem is ljoð What happens at the end can change everything One ending starts in the middle, makes a left, circles back slightly off mark, then makes a right, slides a little further down and ends in the middle again, looking back at where it’s been, knowing exactly how far it has come The other ending starts in the middle too, drops down, finds its way back and then goes further, pointing a sword at some high heaven, never looking back It is said everything in the universe contains the same matter That we begin somewhere in the same place The matter responsible is as close as one last end veering off

Souvankham Thammavongsa, Ljós, from Light (via mesogeios)

[lvvvvl-blog]

Issei Suda

[nakedpersons]

I hope you hear violins.

Is this a reference to that one post I made and deleted quickly a few months ago, because that's simultaneously very sweet and also slightly creepy(but thank you)

[ecantwell]

"Her my body," by Bob Hicok

The dog licks my hand as I worry about the left nipple of the woman in the bathroom. She is drying her hair, the woman whose left nipple is sore. We looked this evening for diagonal cuts or discoloration or bite marks from small insects that may be in our bed. It is a good bed, a faithful bed. A bed that won’t be hurt by the consideration we gave to the possibility of small though disproportionately strong insects in our bed. The blow-dryer sounds like a jet taking off. The first time I flew to Brussels, people began the journey happy but ended with drool on their shirts. She is drying her hair though she has never been to Brussels. Drying her hair though she could be petting a dog. Drying her hair while having red thoughts about what the pain in her nipple means. I would not dry my hair in such a moment but I am bald. The body of the woman has many ways to cease being the body of the woman. I have one way to be happy and she is that way. I would like to fly with her to Brussels. We would not be put off by the drool. This is what happens when people sleep. We would buy postcards of the little boy who saved Brussels when he peed on a fire. We would be romantic in public places. For the moment these desires can best be furthered by petting a dog. I’m also working on this theory. That sometimes a part of the body just hurts. That the purpose of prayer is to make the part of the body that sometimes just hurts the little toe or appendix. Something vestigial or redundant. Something that can be jettisoned. I have no reason to use the word cancer while petting a dog. Here is a piece of a second during which a jet is not flying nor is it on the ground. I’m working on a theory that no one can die inside that piece of a second. If you are comforted by this thought you are welcome to keep it. 

[hatchetandtom]

(via 146 Kilometers - Zach McCaffree)

[lauramakabresku]

[wordsnquotes]

those faces you see every day on the streets were not created entirely without hope: be kind to them: like you they have not escaped.

Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers At Last (via wordsnquotes)

[florizels]

I am the cause, I am a stockpile of chemical toys, my body is a deadly gadget, I reach out in love, my hands are guns, my good intentions are completely lethal.

Margaret Atwood, Excerpt of It Is Dangerous to Read Newspapers from Selected Poems 1965-1975 (via florizels)

[quotemadness]

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember; all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

Franz Kafka (via quotemadness)

[koisser]

i love

[kuplenko2-deactivated20180813]

Kuplenko2

The shape of things to come-2016

[crossconnectmag]

Paintings by Cesar Biojo

Cesar Biojo (born 1981, Cali, Colombia) holds degrees in Fine Arts and Art History from Florida State University and currently works on a Ph.D. in Art Research from the University of Barcelona. His work recovers in some cases post-impressionist styles, resulting in a personal language that makes his art project one of the most interesting in the contemporary scene. He lives and works in Barcelona, Spain. 

Stay up to date with his work by following him on Twitter.

View similar posts  | selected by Margaret

[20aliens-deactivated20200625]

Lava flows from tube into sea near Kupapau Point, Kilauea and explodes upon contact with seawater, creating thin flakes of volcanic glass called limu or pele. 11/27/89 (Photos by J.J. Dvorak)

[nakedpersons]

somedays i feel like i have a handle on the anxiety and it feels so good to let somebody in but somedays i remember how i’ve self-destructed my relationships so many times by pushing people away urghh reprogramming my brain to be not scummy is so hard so hard 

[nakedpersons]

Do you have what-if moments that you often think about?

My friends make fun of me sometimes for being overly cerebral. I get that way with work, but when it comes to my personal life I tend to operate on instinct, chasing down every path like a mangy dog. I get my ass kicked a lot that way, but at least it helps me know that I’ve seen every possibility through, and that if the future I imagined didn’t materialise, it wasn’t within my grasp to begin with.