❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
d e v o n
wallacepolsom
macklin celebrini has autism
todays bird
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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sheepfilms
occasionally subtle
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
★
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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we're not kids anymore.
𓃗
JVL
@theartofmadeline
NASA
seen from T1
seen from T1
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Greece
seen from Malaysia
seen from Austria
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from Thailand
seen from Türkiye
@unopposablethumbs-blog
Space
My spaces are liminal. They exist on boundaries and borders in places and in people that I did not know existed for so many years. It is an interesting thing, to have this liminal space to exist in it and to find there are others here as well when for so long I thought there was simply no there there.
The wind is restless.
Plastic bags and wrappers
Swirl together in the dust,
Rising up in cyclones
And then settling again
On sun-heated pavement.
I pause for a moment,
Waiting for the wind to die
Before I step across.
A bit of trash floats down
In front of me.
I brush it away
And carry on.
And if I whisper your name between sleeping and waking, do not think it is because I still long for you. Old habits die hard and I used to call for you in the night when I believed that you loved me.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, spreading across the table and out into the room, diffused by distance. Shadows crawled into the corners, deeper and deeper as the rays reached out to them. Motes of dust floated in the air, occasionally exploding in bursts of light, sending the shadows skittering again. The air was thick and hot, and smelt of undusted shelves and old books.
They say it is your heart
That breaks
But this sits in my gut,
Or lower still.
Oh god, let me bleed
So I can birth
The darkness that grows in me.
Jaws
Sliver of new moon,
Thin like a fingernail,
Sits just above the horizon,
Resting in the red of the sky
Below the blue below blue
Below deeper blue still.
The horizon has teeth.
Jaws, my father says,
Waiting to devour us
On either end of the valley.
The thin moon hovers there,
Pale below the brightest stars,
And then it, and the red of the sky
Are gone,
Swallowed
By the jaws of the horizon.
Splashes of colour against the grey sky above stop me in my tracks. I walked here before, when you loved me or at least said that you still did.
My breath was like mist, tendrils of fog reaching out to mingle with yours.
And now you have gone And you have taken with you both colours, and sky.
Strange wind howls and moans
bringing me unquiet dreams
and a broken rest.
In My Fridge
Wilted lettuce
And blackened feta
And carrots
Long since gone soft.
Things that I bought
To nourish us
When “us”
Still had a referent.
Ghosts
Sometimes I think
that if you cut me open
what you would find inside
would not be blood
and guts.
Where my viscera
ought to be
you would find
the ghosts of my dead
rising out of me like
smoke escaping into
a clear blue sky.
I am an echo.
The memory
Of a self
(if I ever had one
to start with).
I always rose
Earlier than you,
Funny that
The echo
Should precede
The sound.
I always
served
to remind you.
Silly sound
Couldn’t remember
yourself
Without a note
From your echo.
And I will
Tell you
A secret.
The only thing
I really said
In pictures
And in notes
was
remember me.
I am an echo.
Now the sound
Has faded
and you have forgotten
And so I
will fade as well.
There can be
no echo
Without sound.
Here is one more
note.
Remember me.
The sun’s light
carries no warmth
and this wind
still smells
of winter.
Barren ground
waits for spring
which I fear
will not come
this year.
I knew
you wouldn’t love me.
I never
expected you to.
So I don’t know why
you bothered to lie.
aerial hoop is
almost enough to make me
feel I can still fly
True spring
The day after I walked a long way Through a strange and sudden spring. The sun was high and warm on my face And I walked many miles With my face turned towards it. I couldn't turn around, you see. I passed your street as I walked And to turn would mean that my feet Were carrying me there That they and I hadn't heard you When you pushed my hand away And said you weren't mine anymore. And so I walked long enough That spring turned to winter again Before I turned and walked back Past your street With the sinking sun behind me To wait for a true spring To begin
A soft, warm wind blows
over the cold horizon.
My heart aches for Spring.
Tell Me Another One
You live every day as a paean to your prick
Self-indulgent wanking from a man
Who says he doesn’t masturbate
But I have seen you jerking off
While you jerked me around,
And just because it doesn’t end
With a wad of tissue and a change
Of underpants doesn’t mean you
Don’t spend every fucking day of your
Life wanking, pipe in hand.
Look me in the eyes and tell me again
How you love me
But not enough to try.
How you hate to hurt me
But not enough to try.
How you want to change
But not enough to try.
And then tell me again
That you’ve never been
A fucking wanker.