❥Annie / 24 / Head in the clouds / This is a space where I'll post inspiration + amusements + things I admire.
"How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite."
Look / maybe this is the place we’ve been /
waiting for, maybe this place / is the day, inside us, inside each /
corpuscle, the day, that day, everyday is / inside, my body, your body,
everyday is / this thread, everyday you said, come / get me, everyday
you said, it’s been way too long / you said, bye-bye, bye-bye, not a day /
went by, the thin, the thread, so thin, this thread, are you still / here,
is it still, your heart, is it well / well welling?
—Nick Flynn, closing lines to “haiku (failed),” from Jubilat (no. 19)
When I was trying to quit smoking
and we drank white wine from Mason jars,
you called my freckles cocoa powder
and I called your green eyes
I am learning how to be a grown-up
who pays bills, cooks her own dinners,
and doesn’t cry at words like
I think I just want to be friends.
The thing is this:
Love is an organic thing.
It rots and softens.
—All That’s Left To Tell, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
Anne Carson, from Eros: The Bittersweet
Le Pigeon de Paris
—Jack Gilbert, from “A Brief for the Defense” (via muscovite)
by Anne Carson
We live by tunneling for we are people buried alive. To me, the tunnels you make will seem strangely aimless, uprooted orchids. But the fragrance is undying. A Little Boy has run away from Amherst a few Days ago, writes Emily Dickinson in a letter of 1883, and when asked where he was going, he replied, Vermont or Asia.
—Plainwater (Knopf, 1995)
“It’s been passed around between my friends. It’s like The Sisterhood of The Travelling Pants. Except it’s not pants. It’s a snake vertebrae.”
(San Francisco, CA)