“I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.”
— Unknown
we went to bed at 6pm last night and whenever i woke up my brain would try to slowly reconstruct the phrasing and imagery of McDonald's Honey Bustard Pickled Sea fuck meal and as soon as id get it right i would fall back asleep happened about a dozen times
Colonizers write about flowers. I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks seconds before becoming daisies. I want to be like those poets who care about the moon. Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons. It’s so beautiful, the moon. They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
— Noor Hindi, from “Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying,” DEAR GOD. DEAR BONES. DEAR YELLOW.
i sit in the sun. i drink tea. i recieve a message from my friend. i read a book. i take a walk. i fall in love with life a little bit.
I love you samosas. I love you empanadas. I love you pasties. I love you dumplings. I love you pirozhkis. I love you savory food in a convenient little carb purse.
EYES TALK
“In the Storm of Roses: Selected Poems ch. "Songs form an Island"”, Ingeborg Bachmann. tr by Mark Anderson; // “The Master and Margarita”, by Mikhail Bulgakov; // “The Black Art”, by Anne Sexton; // Santosh Kalwar; // “Jane Eyre”, by Charlotte Brontë; // Quote by @dumblr ; // “The Galloping Hour: French Poems. ch "I check for you in the wind"”, by Alejandra Pizarnik. tr by Patricio Ferrari and Forrest Gander; // Stephen F. Campbell; // Walt Whitman; // “The Boat in the Evening”, by Tarjei Vesaas; // “We”, by Yevgeny Zamyatin. tr Natasha Randall; // Letter to Anne Clarke, by Anne Sexton, July 3 1964; // “Memory in my Hands: The Love of Pedro Salinas. ch "The voice I owe to you"”, by Pedro Salina. tr by Ruth Katz Crispin
okay you know the drill. rb with your 2nd and 8th most listened to song of this year.
ask polly
a s͟o͟u͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟o͟u͟l͟ dwells within a s͟o͟u͟n͟d͟ ͟m͟i͟n͟d͟ and a s͟o͟u͟n͟d͟ ͟b͟o͟d͟y͟ ☆ | archive of my thoughts
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