Headed For Nowhere

lifeinpoetry:

now a field;
now life as it might have been; now the sea,
whose history—like its signature—is ruin.
— Carl Phillips, from “After Learning That the Spell Is Irreversible,” Reconnaissance

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

(via sweetestsecrets)

lifeinpoetry:

“learn how to lay me down in something other than danger / other than fury”

— Leslie Harrison, from “[Snowfields],” The Book of Endings

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

lifeinpoetry:

“is it comfort or touch that you crave / was it ice that held you down or was it love”

— Leslie Harrison, from “[Was it ice],” The Book of Endings

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

weltraum-kartoffel:

(via mirroir)

prospects:

“I will remember the kisses our lips raw with love and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me, and I will remember your small room the feel of you the light in the window your records your books our morning coffee our noons our nights our bodies spilled together sleeping the tiny flowing currents immediate and forever your leg my leg your arm my arm your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.”

— Charles Bukowski (via coral)

different kind of desire

definegodliness:

there is a bed afloat among the stars
and the lovers lie entangled, smiling;
comfortable in the closeness
of naked skin, touching –
yet theirs is a different kind of desire;
his hand molds the shape of her hip,
resting, without a need of caressing
the softness of her warm flesh;
she clasps his face
and feels the rough texture of his hair,
yet her fingers do not run through it;
they are petrified in a shared moment,
and the entire universe can be stolen
as far as they’re concerned,
now they lock eyes and drift away
in a dream of brand-new constellations,
and as smiling lips lure smiling lips
they find a moment of pure happiness,
its climax all but a simple kiss.
.
—
9-12-2018, M.A. Tempels ©

buttonpoetry:

“There is no treason like that of your own body turning against itself.”

— Clint Smith, “My Father is an Oyster”

lifeinpoetry:

“I am the bad daughter, the freedom fighter, the shaper of death masks. / I am the snake, I am the crone”

— Barbara Jane Reyes, from “Aswang,” Diwata

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

waiataaroha:

Jeanine Leane, Waradjuri woman and poet, from the book Walk Back Over (order here).

(via soracities)

infinite-movement:

Ezra Miller by Ryan Pfluger for Playboy Magazine

(via soracities)

lifeinpoetry:

“I cannot be ruined.”

— Aisha Sasha John, “Thanks.” I Have to Live

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

violentwavesofemotion:

“We grow. It hurts at first.”

— Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems; “Witch Burning,” c. October 1961

lifeinpoetry:

Explain how poetry
pursues the human like the smitten moon
above the weeping, laughing earth; how we
make prayers of it.
— Carol Ann Duffy, from “Mrs Schofield’s GCSE,” The Bees

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

violentwavesofemotion:

“I want night. Vast night. Roses into the black sky; ashen evening tears.”

— Grégoire Le Roy, from “Legendary and Melancholic Themes,” wr. c. 1922