yes you can river

7

June 22nd -23rd: An overview of Leo’s career → La Selección through the years.

∟ ‘‘Soy Argentino, es un sentimiento, no puedo parar’‘

anonymous asked:

Can I ask you a question? Why don't you like the paring DoctorxMaster/Twissy? I thought that River/Eleven was your NOTP in this fandom... Not hating or anything, just curious

Yes, Eleven/River is my NOTP, but you can have more than one NOTP. Doctor/Master-Twissy is my NOTP because I’m not really into enemy ships. I know that a lot of people ship ships like that because it’s kinky or forbidden or whatever, but that’s just not my kink.

Polyamory, with Knives

by Jeanann Verlee

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

anonymous asked:

Tell me all your favourite quotes.

all of them? there is not enough time in the day for us, my love. here’s some: 

“Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills. / The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.” – Jeanann Verlee, from “Polyamory, with Knives

“So what I’m trying to say is you should text me back.
Because there’s a precedent. Because there’s an urgency.
Because there’s a bedtime.
Because when the world ends I might not have my phone charged and
If you don’t respond soon,
I won’t know if you’d wanna leave your shadow next to mine.” — Marina Keegan, from “Nuclear Spring”

“Finally, she said: “I’m lonely” — it’s weird but you tell the wolves things, sometimes. You can’t help it, all these old wounds come open and suddenly you’re confessing to a wolf who never says anything back. She said: “I’m lonely,” and they ate her in the street.” — Catherynne M. Valente, from “The Wolves of Brooklyn,” The Bread We Eat in Dreams

“We ruined ourselves—I have never honestly thought that we ruined each other.” —Scott Fitzgerald, in a Letter to Zelda

“Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood.” – Nikos Kazantzakis, “Report to Greco”

“Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don’t guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it’s total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It’s feral. And it’s relentless.” —Leah Raeder, Black Iris

“I don’t know where I end and the world begins. My best guess? Skin. It’s the only actual boundary between the body and the world, between a body and any other body.” —Richard Siken, in an Interview for BOMB Magazine

“Poetry approached me in that chaos of raw inverted power and leaved over and tapped me on the shoulder, said ‘you need to learn how to listen, you need grace, you need to learn how to speak. You’re coming with me’.” – Joy Harjo, How We Became Human

“We all come into existence as a single cell, smaller than a speck of dust. Much smaller. Divide. Multiply. Add and subtract. Matter changes hands, atoms flow in and out, molecules pivot, proteins stitch together, mitochondria send out their oxidative dictates; we begin as a microscopic electrical swarm. The lungs the brain the heart. Forty weeks later, six trillion cells get crushed in the vise of our mother’s birth canal and we howl. Then the world starts in on us.”  – Anthony Doerr, All The Light We Cannot See

**if you want more, here’s an abandoned list of quotes i used to update frequently

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

—  Polyamory, with Knives by Jeanann Verlee

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

—  Polyamory, with Knives by Jeanann Verlee

apoemaday:

“And if there is one last thing I would have you know before we reach these final pages, it’s that sometimes, no matter how hard we try, no matter how hard we want it to be so, sometimes there is no such a thing as happy ending.“ - T.J. Klune, Burn 

Polyamory, With Knives

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

– jeanann verlee