這邊沒有

自從大戰之後,

[funeral]

Franny Choi, Soft Science

[derangedrhythms]

Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova: Reed; from ‘The Sentence’, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

[joeinct]

Yuanyang Study 2, Yunnan, China, Photo by Michael Kenna, 2013

[zuixian]

ᵀᴴᴱ   palace   remains   unheard   so   late,   only   a   whisper   is   delivered   on   the   wing   of   a   passing   crow,   the   yawn   of   sand   on   the   breeze.   ( a   pin’s   dropping   would   be   heard   like   a   scream   and– in   an   age   not   long   since   sunsetted– would   have   been   punished   as   such )   in   even   the   shallowest   of   shadows,   i   make   myself   unknown,   vanishing   into   indifference.   doubtless,   shangque   will   trail,   following   my   scent   like   the   dog   he   is,   but   we   have   time.   between   you   and   i,   a   promise   has   been   unspoken:   confluence.   our   rivers   will   meet   again.

            ... beyond   the   tides   of   the   desert   playing   moat   to   the   palace,   the   dry   wood   of   the   villages   lay murmuring   in   the   waxing   hour,   a   bustling   night   market.   light   of   bonfire   catches   the   modest   curve   of   my   ashen   crown,   and   heads   dip   as   i   make   my   presence   known,   gliding   along   the   wind   with   the   scent   of   spiced   laurels   and   sweet   pork   and   incense.   it   has   been   too   long   since   last   i   visited,   and   as   few   drop   to   a   kneel,   foreheads   pressed   to   the   ground,   taciturn   in   their   begging   for   my   hand–   which   i   bless   them   with   until   i   no   longer   possess   the   patience– i   feel   the   gentle   tugs   of   shame   behind   my   left   lung,   a   land   so   foreign   to   me   i   haven’t   a   word   for   it.

the   night   i   was   born,   there   was   a   tree   planted   inside   of   me.   i   have   always   known   it   couldn’t   have   been   a   gift   from   my   father   because   my   father   has   never   known   love.   it   grew   until   winter,   and   since   winter   it   has   been   dead.   this   moment– as   in   many   others– i   miss   the   empty,   rootless   space   it   once left.   because   now,   the   clouds   part   and   the   moon,   with   her   round   chin,   reaches   through   with   an   open   palm   and   her   silent,   boreal   gaze,   guiding   me   through   the   candlelit   towns   i’ve   walked   before.   as   a   boy,   my   nurse   told   me   tales   of   the   moon   as   my   mother.   she   sighs   the   nighttide   upon   him:   a   god   has   never   looked   so   small,   white   in   the land of penumbra,   bare-faced   as   the   saxaul   crawling   behind   him   that   twists   like   the   sorrow   of   his   brow,   and   he   has   only   looked   so   achingly   beautiful   with   his   blade   descending   upon   my   neck.   a   student   of   humility,   a   bindweed   blossom   in   the   sand.   i   approach,   hands   folded   behind   my   back.   he   is   a   tender   wound   that   i   must   not   yet   touch.

“ changheng. ”   the   brush   at   the   edge   of   the   village   curtains   the   trickle   of   the   brook.   “ i   could   feel   your   call   from   my   balcony. ”   a   tangle,   really,   woven   in   thorns,   veil   worn   in   the   face   of   trespassers.   “ you   look   miserable. ”   you’ve   never   had   trouble   worming   your   way   quietly   through,   when   you   wanted   to;   mortals   see   the bindweed   as   rather   invasive. we’ve   both   had   our   share   of   infiltration. i   step   over   the   bramble.   

@jishui , the god of war : "  there is a twisting feeling in my chest, like cloth being wrung dry. "

far   behind,   my   people   hum   a   litany   of   kinship   and   break   bread   in   cross-legged   complacency,   backs   turned,   fires   dimmed.   limning   a   thread   between   us,   his   words   sit   in   the   air,   illumined   by   his   breath.   the   moon   is   my   mother   and   she   places   a   hand   on   my   shoulder,   and   i   do   not   turn   to   meet   his   umbrous   eye   as   i   pass.                                   “ who   did   this   to   you ? ”

[geryone]

Catrachos, Roy G. Guzmán

[edenmemes]

circe sentence starters

by madeline miller. i altered some quotes so they fit better  ♡

❝  my father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it.  ❞ ❝  there is a twisting feeling in my chest, like cloth being wrung dry.  ❞ ❝  the grudges of the gods are as deathless as their flesh.  ❞ ❝  it was my first lesson. beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two.  ❞ ❝  you think just because you are a daughter of the sun, you may uproot the world to please yourself.  ❞ ❝  even the best iron grows brittle with too much beating.  ❞ ❝  fear of failure is the worst thing for any spell.  ❞ ❝  those who fight against prophecy only draw it more tightly around their throats.  ❞ ❝  did you smile a little? perhaps i only flatter myself.  ❞ ❝  i have a better idea. i will do as i please.  ❞ ❝  what can i say? the world is an ugly place. we must live in it.  ❞ ❝  how many of us would be granted pardon if our true hearts were known?  ❞ ❝  you threw me to the crows, but it turns out i prefer them to you.  ❞ ❝  give me the blade. some things are worth spilling blood for.  ❞ ❝  it is very close. a perfect sleeping spot to ease your weary bones.  ❞ ❝  all my life had been murk and depths, but i was not a part of that dark water. i was a creature within it.  ❞ ❝  most men do not know me for what i am.  ❞ ❝  i suppose i could weep and rub my eyes to please you, but i choose not to live so falsely.  ❞ ❝  there is no wound that you can give me that i have not already given myself.  ❞ ❝  i will not be a bird bred in a cage, too dull to fly even when the door stands open.  ❞ ❝  i stood there for a long time fearing such things, and waiting, as if someone would come and reassure me.  ❞ ❝  this is how zeus felt when he first lifted the thunderbolt.  ❞ ❝  i had a little pride, and that was good. more would have been fatal.  ❞ ❝  will you not come to bed, my love?  ❞ ❝  if my childhood has given me anything, it’s endurance.  ❞ ❝  if you had asked me, i would have said i was happy.  ❞ ❝  that is another thing about you. you make me want to spill my secrets.  ❞ ❝  they do not care if you are good. they barely care if you are wicked. the only thing that makes them listen is power.  ❞ ❝  as for that safety, i do not want it. it is only more chains.  ❞ ❝  all those years i had spent with them were like a stone tossed in a pool. already, the ripples were gone.  ❞ ❝  war always seemed to me a foolish choice from men. whatever they win from it, they will only have a handful of years to enjoy before they die. more likely they will perish trying.  ❞ ❝  are you always so suspicious?  ❞ ❝   in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth.  ❞ ❝  i can bend the world to my will, as a bow bent for an arrow.  ❞ ❝  will you do me the honor of dining with me?  ❞ ❝  i know what we owe you. what i owe.  ❞ ❝  i’m afraid i might have floated on, believing those dull memories were all there was, until the end of days.  ❞ ❝  do not be too happy. it will bring down fire on your head.  ❞ ❝  you are a poison snake, and i am another, and on such terms we please ourselves.  ❞ ❝  your words are like a secret. a thing that looks like stone, but inside is a seed.  ❞ ❝  you cannot know how frightened gods are of pain. there is nothing more foreign to them.  ❞ ❝  bold action and bold manner are not the same.  ❞ ❝  a golden cage is still a cage.  ❞ ❝  i am surprised to see you so plain after such boasting.  ❞ ❝  your voice is like balm upon my raw skin.  ❞ ❝  does no one have the courage? will no one dare to face me?  ❞ ❝  those who love me a little do not care to say.  ❞ ❝  it is easily to speak so open with you. your face is like a quiet pool that will hold everything safe in its depths.  ❞ ❝  humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. as if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.  ❞ ❝  you are weak and blind, and it is worse because you choose it.  ❞ ❝  you can teach a viper to eat from your hands, but you cannot take away how much it likes to bite.  ❞ ❝  i should have known you would be good for nothing to me.  ❞ ❝  gold does not give back a life.  ❞ ❝  it is funny, that even after all this time, you believe you will be rewarded, just because you have been obedient.  ❞ ❝  i have done your work for you, and all you give me is mockery and contempt.  ❞ ❝  where would you go, if you might escape?  ❞ ❝  you are right. this world is a wild and terrible place, and worth shouting at.  ❞ ❝  i cannot bear this world a moment longer.  ❞ ❝  i owe you nothing. you will have of me only what i want to give.  ❞ ❝  however gold you shine, do not forget your fire.  ❞ ❝  that is what you desire most of all: to drive others into doubt, keep them wondering and fretting, stumbling behind your dancing feet.  ❞ ❝  sorry that you thought i was weak, but you were wrong.  ❞ ❝  trickery is for cowards, men not bull-necked enough to show true courage.  ❞ ❝  i have a little pride. if they do not weep, i will not either.  ❞ ❝  you have as many coils as a snake, and an eye always to your advantage.  ❞ ❝  i want the sun to burn me. i want it to scorch me to the bone.  ❞ ❝  what of me? shall i rot?  ❞ ❝  how long would i cling to that handful of minutes, trying to cover myself as if with some threadbare blanket?  ❞ ❝  i have been old and stern for so long, carved with regrets and years like a monolith. but that is only a shape i’ve been poured into. i do not have to keep it.  ❞ ❝  i am not weak. and i will never be sorry not to be like you.  ❞ ❝  you draw me in as if you are winding up a thread.  ❞ ❝  the fragility of mortals breeds kindness and good grace.  ❞ ❝ come, there are blankets here, laid for you upon the soft grass. ❞ ❝ there will be no songs made for you. no stories. you will live a life of obscurity. you will be without a name in history. you will be no one. ❞ ❝ those heroes. you should see the look on their faces when i run straight for them. ❞ ❝ those who fight against prophecy only draw it more tightly around their throats. ❞ ❝ see? we do not need anyone. ❞ ❝ have you not always insisted on being difficult in everything you do? ❞ ❝ you cannot think of it. it will only torment you. ❞ ❝ and that is the least of my powers. ❞ ❝ you are lucky i do not kill you where you stand. ❞ ❝ you do not understand the dangers that wait for you in the world. ❞ ❝ your threats are crude. i had hoped we might discuss this reasonably. ❞ ❝ you showed me your scars, and in return you let me pretend that i had none. ❞ ❝ my whole life, i have waited for tragedy to find me. ❞ ❝ it is not for such as you to question my purpose. ❞ ❝ i felt a weariness in me so great i thought i would sink into the earth. ❞ ❝ have patience, your strength will come in time. ❞ ❝ you have never understood how strong i am. ❞ ❝ you do not know what i can do. ❞ ❝ i have said all i will say. do not ask me again. ❞ ❝ perhaps no parent can truly see their child. when we look we see only the mirror of our own faults. ❞ ❝ i cannot bear this world a moment longer. ❞ ❝ there is no profit in chasing riddles of the fates. ❞ ❝ why can you not be more peaceful? why must it be so hard? ❞ ❝ come. let’s do something fun. i will show you magic. ❞ ❝ at last. i have met the thing the gods can use against me. ❞ ❝ clever. you were testing me, weren’t you? ❞ ❝ i must tell you, all my past is like today; monsters and horrors no one wants to hear. ❞ ❝ you cannot come. it is not safe for mortals. ❞ ❝ come forth, and speak to my face. or do you only do your murdering from the shadows? ❞ ❝ you are safe. we may be happy at last. ❞ ❝ what else have you kept from me? ❞ ❝ all heroes are fools. all heroes but me. ❞ ❝ i know what i was in those days: unsteady, inconstant. ❞ ❝ i will be fine, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i have a better idea. i will do as i please. ❞ ❝ will there never be an end to it? ❞ ❝ i will wear that shame all my life. i cannot undo it, but i will spend my days wishing i could. ❞ ❝ if you want to join me, i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ if i do this thing, it will be the last i will ever do for you. ❞ ❝ i am sorry i put you in such danger. ❞

[zuixian]

   INQ. ... CHANGHENG : " you came to me alone. @jishui / preacher's daughter .

gravity   seems   to   have   developed   in   the   core   of   a   s͟m͟a͟l͟l͟   g͟o͟d͟.   dongfang   qingcang   crystallizes   from   shadows   forged   of   his   own   hand,   followed   by   rivulets   of   robes   atop   the   marble   with   each   stride   forward.   a   brook   in   the   palace,   he   finds   himself   sinking   into   the   divine   orbit;   an   approach   made   with   eternal   eloquence–   a   kind   only   gleaned   after   an   eon–   and   golden- heathered   in   the   m͟o͟o͟n͟s͟h͟i͟n͟e͟.   the   deified   oft   make   glacial   company.   the   floe   of   these   chambers   feels   still   like   little   more   than   a   betrayal.      “   is   it   so   strange ?   ”

          seven   hundred   years   has   truce   jammed   itself   through   the   fistula   of   the   furthest   realm,   and   only   thrice   has   he   managed   to   catch   changheng before   his   ebbing   back   to   mortal   possession.   ( once-touched   yet   unending–   an   elegance   only   learned   at   birth,   and   a   sagacity   only   reaped   by   his   granite   nature–   limned   by   the   arbiter’s   brush. )   nosing   along   the   coming   cosmology   of   t͟o͟- b͟e͟   l͟e͟g͟e͟n͟d͟s͟,   he   spares   a   waxing   gaze,   close   enough   now   to   hear   an   exchange   of   breath.   “   word   of   your   return   spread   through   the   lands   faster   than   morning’s   light.   i   had   to   see   for   myself.   ”

[zuixian]

  INQ.     …     SEPHIROTH :   “  even  the  iron  still  fears  the  rot.   @kyuseshu   /   preacher’s  daughter .

ᵀᴴᴱ   cangyan    sea ,          as    forbidding    and    untold    as    a    forgotten    tomb,           the    still    hearts    of    o͟n͟e͟ - h͟u͟n͟d͟r͟e͟d͟ - t͟h͟o͟u͟s͟a͟n͟d͟    men    sealed    in    the    sand,        and    at    his    breastbone    he    feels    it    gnaw,        an    echo    of    prescience    left    unheard.        and    though    constellating    t͟h͟e͟    a͟s͟h͟e͟s͟    of    ages,        his    spark    wanes    not,        a    torrid    glare    manifest.        cold    as    steel,        the    desert    bites    at    night,           dusk’s    moonshine    nonpareil    ayond    THREE    REALMS        (  her    stalwart    gaze    expels    a    glow    like    a    sigh:    he’s    come    home,     and    the    dust    a    susurrus    on    the    wind  ).        palm    rises,        though    sights    do    not    sway–    pulsing    licking    f͟l͟a͟m͟e͟    alights,        blue    in    the    vast    hours    of    the    dark,           he    becomes    his    own    testimony       /       for    all    to    bear   witness    to    his    ascension.         “            rot    is    for    the    weak.        i    have    burnished    myself    b͟e͟y͟o͟n͟d͟    a    blade:    i    have    whetted    myself    impenetrable.    ”

[2001hz]

Cai Guo-Qiang: 'Sunshine and Solitude' (2010) Exhibition, Location: Mexico, Mexico City