literaturha
literaturha
Little Quotidians
The daily from literaturhaus shares little insights into the quotidian, innovative and thoughtful visions, the everyday illuminated . . .
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literaturha · 9 hours ago
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“Tracks made by atomic particles from a particle accelerator, a device that speeds up the particles. The eye can’t see protons, electrons, and other subatomic particles, but a camera records their frothy wakes in a chamber of liquefied neon and hydrogen at the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory in Batavia, Illinois. Physicists study the tracks to learn about the characteristics of the particles that produced them.” - National Geographic, 1978.
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literaturha · a day ago
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In the train stations and the airports, he travels with his ghosts. He can throw away photographs, dispose of things, cast off old clothes – still his former lives are entwined with the present and he can hear his roots shriek, refusing to be sacrificed. They throb, connected, ripped from the fields of consciousness.
Virginie Despentes, Vernon Subutex 3
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literaturha · 5 days ago
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Tonight I’ve Watched
by Sappho
Tonight I’ve watched The moon and then the Pleiades go down The night is now half-gone; youth goes; I am in bed alone
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literaturha · 6 days ago
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Hiba Schahbaz  -  Gathering,  2018
Pakistani-American, b. 1981 
Tea, watercolour and gouache on paper
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literaturha · 7 days ago
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What makes for a livable world is no idle question. It is not merely a question for philosophers. It is posed in various idioms all the time by people in various walks of life. If that makes them all philosophers, then that is a conclusion I am happy to embrace. It becomes a question for ethics, I think, not only when we ask the personal question, what makes my own life bearable, but when we ask, from a position of power, and from the point of view of distributive justice, what makes, or ought to make, the lives of others bearable? Somewhere in the answer we find ourselves not only committed to a certain view of what life is, and what it should be, but also of what constitutes the human, the distinctively human life, and what does not.
Judith Butler, Undoing Gender
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literaturha · 9 days ago
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Dear watchers in the shadows, dear thick-thighed fiends. At ease please. Tell the hounds who undress me with their eyes — I have nothing to hide. I will spread myself wide. Here, a flash of muscle. Here, some blood in the hunt. Now the center of the world: my incandescent cunt. All hail the dark blooms of amaryllis and the wild pink Damascus, my sweet Aphrodite unfolding in the kink. All hail hot jasmine in the night; thick syrup in your mouth, forked dagger on my tongue. Legions at my heel. Here at the world’s red mecca, kneel. Here Eden, here Bethlehem, here in the cradle of Thebes, a towering sphinx roams the garden, her wet dawn devouring.
Safiya Sinclair, “Center of the World,” Cannibal
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literaturha · 11 days ago
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I know that I have had what I could not hold.
Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Evening on Lesbos”
Poems Between Women: Four Centuries of Love, Romantic Friendship and Desire
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literaturha · 13 days ago
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Robert Zakanitch, Hanging Gardens Series (Fireglow), 2011–12,
 gouache and colored pencil on paper, 96 x 60".
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literaturha · 14 days ago
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“We do not remember days. We remember moments.”
— Cesare Pavese 
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literaturha · 16 days ago
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“Premonitions are coincidences waiting to happen.”
— Oliver, A Tale for the Time Being (Ruth Ozeki)
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literaturha · 18 days ago
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The only spinning vacancy is I,…
Alice Notley, “Tonight the States,” Grave of Light: New and Selected Poems: 1970-2005
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