Wings

I have a small addiction to wings and the sky.

After 🦋

The Voice of God

by Mary Karr

Ninety percent of what’s wrong with you could be cured with a hot bath, says God from the bowels of the subway. but we want magic, to win the lottery we never bought a ticket for. (Tenderly, the monks chant, embrace the suffering.) The voice of God does not pander, offers no five-year plan, no long-term solution, nary an edict. It is small & fond & local. Don’t look for your initials in the geese honking overhead or to see thru the glass even darkly. It says the most obvious crap— put down that gun, you need a sandwich.

i need to be by the lake

pith, rhiannon mcgavin

anonymousalchemist

enkidu. enkidu.

they do not know you

as i knew you.

cmon.

Jayme Ringleb, from “A Little Learning”

[text: Any story is true. Anything that opens is a mouth. A fox means a rainstorm. A cat means death. A deer means I wasn't looking hard enough. /end]

equidistantsquid

Miriam Adeney

margautshorjian

the impossible return

Prints

“home is wherever the grief washes off your hands with the most ease. love nothing that can’t fit into your smallest pockets, and I will always be with you.”

— from Vintage Sadness by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib (via heartmagician)

YOU ARE YOUNG AND YOU STILL HAVE TIME TO BE A PERSON ⭐️ 1) Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón (2015) / 2) Katrin Lillenthal // 3) At the Kitchen Sink by Camille. A. Balla // 5) From this Ask Polly 6) Little Weirds by Jenny Slate (2019) // 7) NASA // 8) The Diaries 1910 - 1923 by Franz Kafka // 9) this photo here // 10) Blue Horses poems by Mary Oliver

history keeps pulling me down

Falling, Florence + the Machine // The Fall of Icarus, Rene Milot // Fallen Angel, Andreas Birath

ON EVERYDAY - 1. “Supper” by Garrison Keillor // (2)// (3) // 4. Bonfire Opera: Poems by Danusha Laméris (2020) // (5) // 6. “The Orange” by Wendy Cope // 8. “A Good Day” by Kait Rokowski // 9. Midnight Chicken & Other Recipes Worth Living For by Ella Risbridger (2019) //

Joan Tierney

winterghostbird

Morgan Nikola-Wren

there's a hole in your soul (and something's trying to get out)

[ID: An art piece of an angel, shown from the back with their arms curled over their shoulders to claw at their back. Under their hands there’s a glowing ball of light that wings are bursting from. Blood drips down their back. END ID]

I liked hell. I liked to go there alone, relieved to lie in the wreckage, ruined, physically undone. The worst had happened. What else could hurt me then? I thought it was the worst, thought nothing worse could come. Then nothing did, and no one.

Marie Howe, from Magdalene: Poems; “Magdalene: The Addict”

YOU FORGET HOW TO CRY AND HOLD IT DEEP IN YOUR CHEST

Valzhyna Mort, from Music for the Dead and Resurrected: Poems; “Genesis”

Text ID: I’ve always preferred Cain. / His angry / loneliness, his / lack of mother’s / love, his Christian / sarcasm: “Am I / my brother’s keeper?” / asks his brother’s murderer. / Aren’t we indeed / the keepers of our dead?

Mary Oliver, ‘north country’