immanence

[dodsrike-deactivated20140501]

[frenchtwist]

via dodsrike:

Gamla stan, 1931

[89rooms]

I remember how seeing the shape of your mouth that first time, I kept staring until my blood turned to rain. Some things take root in the brain and just don’t let go.

T.S Eliot - 'Slow Dance'

[dodsrike-deactivated20140501]

[frenchtwist]

via dodsrike:

Gamla stan, 1931

[thebeautythelight]

I wish I could disappear So you would never see me in this mess I get in However hard I try, keep on stumbling still Once in a while, I'll show you who I am When I can, I'll

Open up the ocean, jump on in The masters of the coastlines beckoning Unfold my only life vest, sink or swim Through the everlasting worlds begin

In the night, I went out searching It took me three years and a girl We was blinded by the stars that hit Our gentle little world The rocks turned into water And what was clear become a blur We was good, but the bad got worse The sinking ship began to burn So I shook across her mountain face 'Cause I'm a liquorlip loaded gun Look and talk through eyes that sting And then a stranger to me sung

[undr]

Alfred Gescheidt. East 42nd Street At Night, New York. 1960s

[weltenwellen]

Hanif Abdurraqib, from "Ok I'm Finally Ready to Say I'm Sorry For That One Summer", The Crown Ain't Worth Much

[nevver]

Gettin’ Witchy, Psyché Ophiuchus

[thebeautythelight]

let's get these girls on the job

[madrasi]

[thebeautythelight]

I was looking for the kingdom of clowns and fools 'Til I saw your face in a crowded room You were dancing and I was dancing too Yeah, I was dancing too You were dancing

[weltenwellen]

Czeslaw Milosz, tr. by Robert Haas, from “Late Ripeness”, Second Space: New Poems

[hildeeveraert]

Sabine Weiss - Au Bord de la Mer Bretagne, 1954

[thebeautythelight]

You Were

I am the one standing in the rain, Invisible beside you. I am the one in the dirt which now is turning to mud around my feet. I am the one weighed down by each of our partings and the one lifted up by each meeting, reachings that could not be completed, that nevertheless held up the force of their hunger. And, yes, you were always a seeking, an unknown, a mystery to me. And not less than I to myself- beginner that I have become all over again on the paths and mountain slopes of this journey. I watch my mind watch each moment in its passage, it fades into, blends, with what came before. Nothing remains as it was in the mind after the path has been seen and walked upon there is always the next thing arriving as if from behind, catching up with one's sight, surrounding. And all the while the snows of memory are falling, covering the roads of the present. The past overflows this moment without meaning to, just as your face is more real in my remembering than this present one sitting next to me, just as each of us hurt the other without intending it. And after a time we thought experience might bring us to calm, and we see we are standing in the river of passing, each waiting for the warmth of the other's face, unable to understand why they are not with us, startled by their absence, traveler and traveler distant as two dots unconnected in a yellow field. William Kistler

[thebeautythelight]

WE WERE RUNNING

in memory of Annie We were running up the slope of a hill, that dog and I, an early winter rain beginning to fall, wind-driven and sharp, the clouds so black the edges of the hills were etched and incandescent. That dog and I were running, the two of us apart and yet together, and even now, in the solitude of a quiet hour—the days and that dog long gone—I can follow those far-blown traces of unexpected joy and find my way back again: heart wild, lungs filling with the breath of winter, and that dog beside me running headlong into the world without end.

~ Peter Everwine, 

“We Were Running” in A Small Clearing (Aureole Press, 2016)

[thebeautythelight]

So Long

When I read your letter, I couldn't believe that you're gone I dialed your number, but no one answered the phone I asked your friends to tell me if they knew where you were They said they thought that you were ill

I hired a detective to try and find out where you are He managed to trace you, he said you were living in France A watchman saw you climb into someone else's car And drive off laughing in the night

Why didn't you tell me? Not leave me this way Ooh, you could've told me Not waited for so long

I tried to forget you, but I found myself walking the street I went to the doctor and he gave me something to sleep I sent you telegrams, but you haven't answered one Your mother told me, I best leave you well alone I hope you're satisfied, now you've done this thing to me I hope you're pleased with what you've done

Why didn't you tell me? Not leave me this way Ooh, you could've told me Not waited for so long

I never realized just exactly who you are (For so long) I never realized the girl I had before (For so long) I hope you're satisfied, you won't hear from me again (For so long) I hope you're pleased with what you've done

Why didn't you tell me? Not leave me this way Ooh, you should've told me Not waited for so long

[nesfarsit]

[thebeautythelight]

Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering its a feather bed.

Terence McKenna

[elegyforadream]

[petaltexturedskies]

You lay beside me; your hand moved over my face as though you had felt it also — you must have known, then, how I wanted you. We will always know that, you and I.

Louise Glück, from "The Encounter"

[niramish]

IN THE EVENING —C.P. Cavafy Anyway those things would not have lasted long. The experience of the years shows it to me. But Destiny arrived in some haste and stopped them. The beautiful life was brief. But how potent were the perfumes, on how splendid a bed we lay, to what sensual delight we gave our bodies. An echo of the days of pleasure, an echo of the days drew near me, a little of the fire of the youth of both of us; again I took in my hands a letter, and I read and reread till the light was gone. And melancholy, I came out on the balcony— came out to change my thoughts at least by looking at a little of the city that I loved, a little movement on the street, and in the shops.

[thebeautythelight]

on how splendid a bed...