. . .

[scavengedluxury]

Grave of Caroline Christine Walter, Freiburg Old Cemetery. She died aged 17 in 1867 and every day since then a mystery donor has left flowers on her grave.

[warmsoftsun]

can someone corroborate this

[thememedaddy]

[writing-prompt-s]

You are Death. The last living thing has died. You've put the chairs on the tables, turned out the lights, and locked the universe behind you. Something whispers from behind the door.

[tendermimi]

recent film (this is what the inside of my heart looks like)

[suncem-okupana]

Vladimir Alexandrov - Moonlight over the River

[conrav-deactivated20221201]

[sulphuriclike]

Ivan Meštrović Dve Vdovi (Two Widows), 1909 (detail)

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

[neoyorzapoteca]

“I don’t think there’s anything that can’t be expressed or imagined. When we lost our daughter, people would say, I can’t imagine or There are no words … I was like, well, I think you can imagine and there are words. Those are magical phrases we use in our culture to block those thoughts. Everybody has to live their lives, but I think it’s the purpose of poetry to stay with that struggle. These poems don’t close. This hole never closes. Poetry is the place of difficulty, doubleness—radiance, beauty, surprise. It stays open and in trouble.”

— BOMB Magazine | Joyelle McSweeney by Gabriela Denise Frank

[allyourprettywords]

“God Explains Space To His Angels,” Sid Gomez Hildawa

You’ll have to slow down.

I mean, very, very slow, like travelling an inch and a half (they call it distance) in eight hundred million years (they call it time). You’ll have to distinguish between here and there - yes, yes, we all know there’s only the here and now, but you’ll have to see it their way - with everything reduced to three dimensions. It comes with being exiled in a mortal body, you see, which is not entirely a curse, I assure you. Space is the disposable furniture of a mind enmeshed in its own metaphors, brandishing a meter stick under our immeasurable sky.

You’ll need wings.

[ymutate]

Alexander Grishkevich ( Belarusian, b. 1961).

Backwater, 2001

Oil painting.

[miamaimania]

Basking in the Surreal Summer of ‘01 ¥ - from Egg Magazine

[marypickfords]

The Sketch of Snow (Isao Yamada, 1988)

[marenostrum-ac-dc]

The eye of a marble statue from Herculaneum, with surviving paint. Roman before 79 AD.  

[stoicmike]

If language was a perfect tool every thought and feeling could be put into words. -- Michael Lipsey

[peelsofpoetry]

The Meaning Of Leaving by Ali Shapiro Maybe it was there all along, in our shirtsleeves, on the heavy trees, every time we turned left—as in the opposite of right, which is also wrong, as in the mistakes I’m bound to keep making as long as I long. I still love you but I can’t stay still, that’s why I’m bound for the coast in the old truck blazoned with rust, crest of snow, crust of salt, the bed that was our bed, you in the rearview for hundreds then thousands of miles—you the cornfield, you the semi, you the sirens pulling me over and over. I’ve got my eyes on the road’s gray throat, its soft shoulder, its sign that says yield. Maybe I was here all along, driving away in the driving rain, in the space between left meaning remaining and left meaning already gone.

[limoncello-kiss-deactivated2024]