Joy Sullivan, From "Long Division", Instructions For Traveling West

“How’s life?”

Me:

I'm going to *remembers suicide is often not a desire for death itself but rather an attempt to radically change one's life because the current state of being has become unbearable but the person can't think of any way to change it other than death* kill myself

tumblr is not social media. idk how to explain but its so calm here. like this is the field and the valleys. over there is the town and people. but here we are little sheep in our pastures eating our grass and laying in the sun <3

kitty car 🐱

Find the poets, my friend said. They will not speak of the things you and I speak about. They will not speak of economic integration or fiscal consolidation.

They could not tell you anything about the burden of adjustment.

But they could sit you down and tell you how poems are born in silence and sometimes, in moments of great noise, of how they arrive like the rain, unexpectedly cracking open the sky.

They will talk of love, of course, as if it were the only thing that mattered, about chestnut trees and mountain tops, and how much they miss their dead fathers.

They will talk as they have been talking for centuries, about holding the throat of life, till all the sunsets and lies are choked out, till only the bones of truth remain.

The poets, my friend, are where they have always been— living in paper houses without countries, along rivers and in forests that are disappearing.

And while you and I go on with life remembering and forgetting,

the poets remain: singing, singing.

-Tishani Doshi

antigone was right

“Desire, I think, is a portal where we look at the thing we want, but we also look at the other things that are gathered around that. And I don’t think I know of any better vehicle for holding all that together than poetry. In the lines of poetry, there’s so much said and so much implied, so much lurking in the silence of a poem and so much present in the text of it.”

— Pádraig Ó Tuama, from the Poetry Unbound Podcast, “Yu Xiuhua | Crossing Half of China to Sleep with You”

Just sitting around the house thinking about making a Mr. Darcy meme where the punchline is somehow “roses are red, violets are blue, IN VAIN HAVE I STRUGGLED. IT WILL NOT DO”

November, often overshadowed by the charm of October and the magic of December, holds a quiet beauty of her own. Remnants of Autumn linger, while the anticipation of winter’s first snow begins to settle in. I’m looking forward to cozy nights by the fire and the subtle beauty of bare trees against the dusk sky 🤎

Instagram: @melvolkman

Ibrahim Nasrallah, “Palestinian,” trans. Huda Fakhreddine