夢は十分ではありません。

it is too far, but not out of reach. Active blog: @artofdust

[leechteethwrites]

[voirlvmer]

“I weep and weep and wish that her understanding of the world were real. That grief was not about the utter impossibility of return.”

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, from “Notes on Grief”

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“There was a sunlit absence.”

— Seamus Heaney, from section 1 “Sunlight” of “Mossbawn: Two Poems in Dedication,” North: Poems (Faber and Faber, 1975)

[andrumedus]

Morgan Parker, Other People’s Comfort Keeps Me Up At Night; “Greetings from Struggle City”

[Text ID: For a taste of your neck I would / burn my tongue]

[megairea]

Heinrich Heine, from “I’ve paid you the price” (tr. by Hal Draper)

[talestalesof]

Eileen Myles

[firstfullmoon]

i would love alllllll the poems/lit/drama/anything you have about flowers!! happy spring!!!

flower poems, here you go 🌷

“How Can Black People Write About Flowers at a Time Like This” by Hanif Abdurraqib

“Let there be new flowering” by Lucille Clifton

“To Describe an Almond Blossom” by Mahmoud Darwish

“Brennende Liebe” and “Hyacinth” by Louise Glück

“Tulips” by Sylvia Plath

“White Clover” by Marvin Bell

“Cherry Blossoms” by Toi Derricotte

“Naming what has risen” by Camille T. Dungy

“Whenever I Saw You I Handed You a Bouquet, and” by Sharon Olds

“Orchids Are Sprouting From the Floorboards” by Kaveh Akbar

“Smell Is the Last Memory to Go” by Fatimah Asghar

“The Gauze of Flowers, A Love Poem” by Olena Kalytiak Davis

“First Love” by Toson Shimazaki

+ “At least I have the flowers of myself,”

— H. D., from “Eurydice”

[voirlvmer]

The light stands like a panel of glass. Frameless. Detachment on one side, on the other side, fear. This could be the farthest you’ve ever known from cruelty. It’s as if you’ve been singled out, somehow, exceptional, that’s what you tell yourself, though there’s a present calm that cannot calm the past. Nothing calms it. Careful. Look at the shadows of clouds moving across the ice that still sheets the pond, how they seem to move, as well, just beneath the ice, like something trapped there, private and flourishing.

Carl Phillips, from “Morning in the Bowl of Night”, Then the War

[573p5]

[derangedrhythms]

Hermann Hesse, from 'Steppenwolf', tr. David Horrocks

[soracities]

[art-priestess]

Making Amends, panel three by Holly Warburton

[feral-ballad]

Molly McCully Brown, from Places I’ve Taken my Body: Essays

[loveaudiogasm]

Visit Original Link

M24 & F20. My bf was out of state for a bit so it’d been a few weeks since we had sex. He kept having to ask me to slow down because he didn’t wanna cum so soon🤭 Started with a blowjob & moved into me riding him & then doggy😈 He even kept going for a bit after he came🥵

[talestalesof]

Alice Notley, from Iphigenia

[opaltear333]

[soracities]

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (trans. Michael Henry Heim)

[Text ID: “Necessity knows no magic formulae–they are all left to chance. If a love is to be unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi’s shoulders.”]