"I opened myself to death, the way a fallen tree / opens itself to the wild."
Kaveh Akbar, from “Portrait of the Alcoholic with Home Invader and Housefly,” Portrait of the Alcoholic
(via lifeinpoetry)
(Source: lifeinpoetry, via lifeinpoetry)
Study for “Homage to the Square: Consent” by Josef Albers, 1971, Guggenheim Museum
Size: 40.3x40.2 cm
Medium: Oil on MasoniteSolomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York Gift, The Josef Albers Foundation, Inc., 1991 © 2016 The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
"… & yet why do I keep reading what I have written, attempting to surmise what you might be inferring, wondering if you will understand me, hoping that you will fall in love with something I have written here & thus fall in love with me? If I were to turn this life into a movie, we’d all be under bridges, then under tables, then under water, then in the belly of a sperm whale, all the while speaking of sky; moreover, we’d wear mourning veils, heavy coats, silk gloves & communicate solely though quill pens & carrier pigeons. If I were to turn these love letters into a book, the inscription would be by Barthes, & it would say: To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love (the other), to know that writing compensates for nothing, sublimates nothing, that it is precisely there where you are not–this is the beginning of writing. If this were a cartoon, you would be a giraffe & I would be a mouse & we’d live in a sycamore-leaf shaped house & we’d fight all the time, that is, when you could hear me, your head being so high up, so far off; I’d sleep in your little alarm clock, sing a morning song for you, chew holes in your favorite socks, hide my best straw of yarn in your breast pockets, let you use my tail to mark your places in books…"
Jenny Boully, The Body: An Essay
(via heteroglossia)
“That period in your 20s where you’re necessarily having to separate yourself from a kind of romantic idea of yourself.”
Frances Ha (2012) dir. Noah Baumbach
(Source: lizaattwood, via 742evergreenterrace)
"Green sadness is sadness dressed for graduation, it is the sadness of June, of shiny toasters as they come out of their boxes, the table laid before a party, the smell of new strawberries and dripping roasts about to be devoured; it is the sadness of the unperceived and therefore never felt and seldom expressed, except on occasion by polka dancers and little girls who, in imitation of their grandmothers, decide who shall have their bunny when they die. Green sadness weighs no more than an unused handkerchief, it is the funereal silence of bones beneath the green carpet of evenly cut grass upon which the bride and groom walk in joy."
Mary Ruefle, My Private Property (via fragmentarie)
This record is absolutely perfect in every way!!!
“We all fail each other sometime.
See how vague language can pretend to be.
See how exact intention is.”—Mary Jo Bang, from Elegy
PAT STEIR, Sixteen Waterfalls of Dreams, Memories, and Sentiment (detail), USA 1990. Oil on canvas. Part of the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Arts, New York. Photography by Scandinavian Collectors 2016.
(Source: scandinaviancollectors)
(Source: ancient-cumulus-blog, via perrfectly)
"(…) for each of us there is
some small sound like an unseen bird or
a red bike grinding along the gravel path
that could wake us, and take us home."
Dorianne Laux, from “Morning Song,” Facts About The Moon (W. W. Norton, 2005)
(Source: adrasteiax, via pada-viya)