Caitlyn Siehl, from What We Buried; “Kindling”
[Text ID: “I am all mouth, with teeth like kindling. / Do not kiss me before you know this. / I am all hunger, all restraint and poised bones, coiled spine, patient spring.”]
@stvksn on ig
i hope your god has asked you for mercy and i hope you've refused to forgive him
is so insanely powerful. that's gonna be seared in my brain for a long time. fuck.
I wish someone would put my post under the water, maybe I want to be lost at sea forever
I’ve got you bestie dw about it
Puts you in the water
Sorry could you speak up I can’t hear you under all that water
I said damn these manatees looking kinda thick
Oh! Ok
Waterboards you too so you feel included
mistakes are so normal and human and inevitable and necessary and real. if i make one however please put me to death
—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.]
consider the sperm whale and the squid. an ancient rivalry that dates back millions of years. we know the whales eat the squids. we know the squids do not make it easy for them. we know this because of the scars the whales carry, scars on the outside of their body, and on the inside as well. how badly must you want something to endure wounds inside your mouth? inside your gut?
consider the whale, who is harmed by what sustains her. consider the squid, whose flesh is soft and delicious but refuses to go down easy.
Illustration from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám by Ronald Balfour (1920)
“there are, on this planet alone, something like two million naturally occurring sweet things, some with names so gorgeous as to kick the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon, stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks at the market. Think of that. The long night, the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah. But look; my niece is running through a field calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel and at the end of my block is a basketball court. I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.”
— Ross Gay, excerpt of “Sorrow Is Not My Name”, in Bringing the Shovel Down (via antigonick)
