This bright place

Amber 

[thisbrightplace]

We zouden kunnen gaan zitten

in een koffiekopje

Je weet wel,

een klassiek met schuine wanden,

zodat we telkens naar elkaar toe schuiven.

Geen mok, dat niet.

Geen grote cilinder

met platte bodem,

maar zo’n kleintje,

bol.

Misschien dat we daarin

moeten investeren:

van alle kamers kopjes maken.

- S. Marie

[sedraboc]

[stephaniedolen]

[exporting]

[owlskintrenary]

[endless-unfolding]

What use is moonlight? I reach into it, fingers open, and my hand is silvered and blessed, and comes back to me holding nothing.

Margaret Atwood, from “Sumacs,” Interlunar (Jonathan Cape, 1988)

[worshipgifs]

[mercury]

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

violentwavesofemotion:

“Think of someone you want to touch whom you cannot touch, someone forbidden. Think of a room where there is nothing except the two of you: still, you cannot touch them. Think of the heat between two hands about to touch, the language that exists in that silence.”

— Chelsea Hodson, from “A Simple Woman,” Tonight I’m Someone Else: Essays (Holt, 2018)

[childmagazine]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BD_vZA5I3qv/

[soracities]

“We lose June. We lose July. In August we look in mirrors and want to die.”

— Kim Addonizio, from ‘The Women’, Wild Nights: New and Selected Poems

[highschoolhandjobs]

i sing the body electric // andrea gibson

photos by (x)

[fluttering-slips]

Strawberries

There were never strawberries like the ones we had that sultry afternoon sitting on the step of the open french window facing each other your knees held in mine the blue plates in our laps the strawberries glistening in the hot sunlight we dipped them in sugar looking at each other not hurrying the feast for one to come the empty plates laid on the stone together with the two forks crossed and I bent towards you sweet in that air in my arms abandoned like a child

from your eager mouth the taste of strawberries in my memory lean back again let me love you  let the sun beat on our forgetfulness one hour of all the heat intense and summer lightning on the Kilpatrick hills 

let the storm wash the plates

Edwin Morgan from The Second Life, 1968

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

“The days were long. The summer afternoons were shapeless, continuing present time, punctuated by the listless slap of a screen door and the way light hung in leaves along the green, cool limit of the woods.”

– Avery Chenoweth, from “Powerman,” Wingtips: Stories (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999)

[soracities]

“Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.”

— W.B. Yeats, ‘A Drinking Song’

[annerebelle]

Cillian Murphy for Esquire

[oberynmartell]

Johnny Depp by Annie Leibovitz for Vanity Fair, 1994