Parenthesis

[herowyn]

[sir-orfeo]

Not a star, not a prophet’s inspiration

not a pious face worshipping the moon,

here he comes like a pagan spear

invading the land of alphabets

bleeding, raising his hemorrhage to the sun.

Here he comes wearing the stone’s nakedness

thrusting his prayers into caves.

Here he comes

embracing the weightless earth.

Adonis, “Not a Star” from Songs of Mihyar of Damascus (1961)

[sir-orfeo]

Light graces pugnacious waves. Through my eyes, it looks at galaxies. Having escaped the sun’s inferno, it turns into angelic substance and reflects upon its own nature.

Etel Adnan, “Sea” from Sea and Fog

[sir-orfeo]

The sun hasn’t set and there’s no light. O the obscure clarity out of which we are made.

Etel Adnan, “Sea” from Sea and Fog

[sir-orfeo]

For whom does dawn open my eye’s window,

for whom does it blaze a path between my ribs?

Why does death pulse through me

and tie my life to the flutter of seconds?

I’ve known my blood to be time’s womb,

and that on my lips quake the labors of truth.

Adonis, “Labor Pains” from First Poems (1957)

[black-tar-berlin]

[sir-orfeo]

Let your back lie on the water and be a raft for birds, then in the middle of the night, dive. Your ears will ring, spit fire; the waters will remember that once they were you.

Etel Adnan, “Sea” from Sea and Fog

[sir-orfeo]

Latest news: and who framed the universe, who and for whom? I created it for the sake of clouds, and all the stars behind. For light’s light. For the sea, to be.

Etel Adnan, “Sea” from Sea and Fog

[medeae]

“My voice cracking like bones inside the radio. Silly me. I thought love was real.”

— Ocean Vuong, from “Eurydice” featured in Night Sky with Exit Wounds (via illuminosity)

[xshayarsha]

Samson and Delilah, 1887 (detail) José Echenagusía.

[sir-orfeo]

Follow me into the endless night (I can bring your fears to life) Show me yours and I'll show you mine (Meet me in the woods tonight)

Lord Huron, “Meet Me In The Woods” from Strange Trails

[watchoutforintellect]

If the communication is perfect, the words have life, and that is all there is to good writing, putting down on the paper words which dance and weep and make love and fight and kiss and perform miracles.

Gertrude Stein, as quoted by Bravig Imbs in Gertrude Stein Remembered (via mesogeios)

[halcynth]

Among the tortures and devastations of life is this then—our friends are not able to finish their stories.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via halcynth)

[vintagepales2-blog]

#EMPTYMET Project - Photography by:  J.N. Silva

[sir-orfeo]

I belong bodily to the earth I'm just wearing old bones from those that came first There are many more flames when mine is gone They will build me no shrines and sing me no songs

Lord Huron, “Way Out There” from Strange Trails

[thoodleoo]

If I am to perish by the power of fire, At least let that fire be yours.

Ovid, Metamorphoses II.280-281 (via pythionice)

[sir-orfeo]

It is impossible to live in the past, difficult to live in the present and a waste to live in the future.

Frank Herbert, Dune