welcome to the island of misfit toys

Julia

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

"do it scared" this "do it tired" that. well no one ever talks about the fucking insurmountable "do it with greasy hair"

[ashstfu]

propaganda i am not falling for:

always moving on. some goodbyes need to rot a little. some griefs need to be held in the mouth like a stone.

beauty defined by algorithms. beauty exists in crow feet and smile lines

pretending to be chill. i’m not chill. i care deeply and inconveniently. i read into things. i write poems about eye contact

beige apartments with no soul. give me bookshelves and incense and loud art

sneaky links and unclear intentions. i want devotion. and also clarity

treating books as decor. read them. dog-ear them. argue with them in the margins

[duckdotcom]

patch of sunlight from the window save me

[metamorphesque]

why do all the words sound heavier in my native language?

—  @metamorphesque, Yoojin Grace Wuertz (Mother Tongue), Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky (by Garth Greenwell), Jhumpa Lahiri (Translating Myself and Others), @lifeinpoetry

[mun-dane]

on love arriving unannounced

[mun-dane]

so overwhelmed by the love my little poem received, i wanna cry

[panacademics]

I wanna cry too, it's so? Overwhelming.

[loverslaundry-deactivated202201]

every august its like. u will feel happy but also unbearably sad

[yearningheart]

love tumblr for collectively romanticizing august like ur all so right........it's such a special/strange month

[theorangepdf]

getting that august feeling (things that have ended endlessly are ending again)

[currentlycryingaboutlancelot]

at the start of every month everyone reblogs some insane poetry that’s like “august has arrived and again I swallow my bones in the burning sun” and every time I’m like damn that makes no sense. but kind of true.

[happyheidi]

the moon in paintings. x

[metamorphesque]

—Somewhere a Band is Playing, Ray Bradbury

[text ID: Somewhere a band is playing

Oh listen, oh listen that tune!

If you learn it you’ll dance on forever

In June and yet June and more June.

And Death will be dumb and not clever

And Death will lie silent forever

In June and June and more June.]

[metamorphesque]

musings on June

1.anne sexton (“the truth the dead know”), 2. anne sexton (“suicide note poem”), 3. mary oliver (“august”), 4. l.m. montgomery (“anne of the island”), 5. morgan parker (“the black saint & the sinner lady & the dead & the truth”), 6. found poems: sylvia plath / peter k. steinberg (“percy key among the narcissi”) artwork by hugo grenville

buy me a coffee  

[metamorphesque]

— Breakfast at Tiffany's, Truman Capote

[text ID: June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone.]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“It was the month of June when her eyes opened, softly as the flower opens its petals, gently as the dawning of the day,”

— Amrita Pritam, from Krishna Gorowara, from “The Annunciation,”

[petaltexturedskies]

F. Scott Fitzgerald, the beautiful and damned (1934)

[metamorphesque]

— The Sleeper, Edgar Allan Poe

[text ID: At midnight, in the month of June, / I stand beneath the mystic moon.]

[petaltexturedskies]

It was the beginning of June; summer was arising out of spring, like an aloe from a field of grass.

Gabriele D'Annunzio, The Virgins