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“Making love was never about you and me in a bed. We made love whenever we held hands.”

— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

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Mon amour tu es de l'art.

(My love you are art.)

Picture Credit: Pinterest.

#beginning writer #writers on tumblr #writersofindia #writerscorner #my writing #written #writers stuff #writing #writtingcommunity #writerscommunity

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~ Courtney Peppernell

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— Theodore Roethke, from “Straw for the fire.”

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musings on touch

margaret atwood, natalie diaz, ocean vuong, susan sontag, anne carson, marya hornbacher, mary oliver

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—On Love, Marina Tsvetaeva

[text ID: I just want a humble, murderously simple thing: that a person be glad when I walk into the room.]

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Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

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I WISH I WAS BITE SIZED.

tanya tucker / cj hauser / franz kafka / mary lambert (@heavensghost ) / ib vyache / cj hauser / sun yuan and peng yu / mitski 

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One of the worst feelings has to be when you finish an amazing book and have no one to talk to about it

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Jericho Brown, from Another Elegy (”This is what our dying looks like”)", The New Testament

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[transcript: 1. “god is fucking with my oblivion. if he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory.”

2. “your god comes and he is ordinary and terrible. he confers with the doctors at your kitchen table and tells you to eat….”

3. “our father who art in heaven. our father who art buried in the yard.”

4. “at the trial of god, we will ask: ‘why did you allow all this?’ and the answer will be an echo: ‘why did you allow all this?’”

5. “i don’t believe in god as much as i believe in the interrogation room. i believe in someone placing a loaded gun on a metal table between me and a door. who gets to be god then? will god be the bullet or the table or the door.”

6. “every spy knows this. some say god is where we put our sorrow. god says, which one of you fuckers can get to me first?”/end transcript.]

vi khi nao— fish in exile/leila chatti— portrait of the illness as nightmare/richard siken— snow and dirty rain/ilya kaminsky— a city like a guillotine shivers on its way to the neck/hanif abdurraqib— all the tv shows are about cops/richard siken— war of the foxes

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Cynthia Cruz, from “Diagnosis,” The Glimmering Room.

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— a girl is a haunted house, tathève simonyan

[text ID: “This is me”, he whispers and I can feel the breath of his fist on my virgin cheekbone. / “This is me”, his voice is clearer, “do you take me as I am?” / But all I can think of is how my mother invented helplessness to raise my father up. / I refuse to build a throne on my head for another man.]

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