almost home
DEAR READER
Keni
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Origami Around
AnasAbdin
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
wallacepolsom
Janaina Medeiros
shark vs the universe
d e v o n
⁂
Game of Thrones Daily
JVL
Sade Olutola
One Nice Bug Per Day
we're not kids anymore.
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@ca-pric-ious
musings on June
1. anne sexton (“the truth the dead know”), 2. anne sexton (“suicide note poem”), 3. mary oliver (“august”), 4. l.m. montgomery (“anne of the island”), 5. morgan parker (“the black saint & the sinner lady & the dead & the truth”), 6. found poems: sylvia plath / peter k. steinberg (“percy key among the narcissi”) artwork by hugo grenville
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GQ published an unedited version of a David Lynch interview about happiness they’d only briefly quoted before (x)
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I think I heard a spirit call my name.
Banana Yoshimoto, Kitchen, tr. Megan Backus
Francisco Goya - Boy Staring at an Apparition, (1824–25)
Jean-Paul Sartre to Simone de Beauvoir
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Danez Smith, from "summer, somewhere"
tenderness is in the hands ― Carolyn Forché, L’Avventura (1960), Ocean Vuong, The White Ribbon (2009), Hart Crane, Gelatin Silver, Love (2009), Ingeborg Bachmann, Les amants du Pont-Neuf (1991), Sylvia Plath, Psycho (1960), Rod McKuen (stills by @forhandsthatsuffer)
What does the God of your childhood look like? A soft apparition pigeoned in the attic,
a wound eating you one year at a time?
— Rachel McKibbens, from “outhouse,” published in Vinyl
"To forget, to forget ...", Vahan Teryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)
Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies
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“Does it not feel good? Filling yourself with pleasures unspoken and undreamed of?” Dion Anja, from Vertigo Peaks (2024)
Love and Pain (also known as the Vampire) by Edvard Munch (1895)
Caitlin Bailey, from Solve for Desire: Poems; “To G, after the party”
[Text ID: “I wonder / what it would have felt like to / have a choice, to choose love, / to hold anything with both hands. / It’a taken me this long / to say I want I want I want,”]
Journey to Italy (1954)
tim o'brien, "the things they carried"
“You, God, who live next door— If at times, through the long night, I trouble you with my urgent knocking— this is why: I hear you breathe so seldom. I know you’re all alone in that room. If you should be thirsty, there’s no one to get you a glass of water. I wait listening, always. Just give me a sign! I’m right here. As it happens, the wall between us is very thin. Why couldn’t a cry from one of us break it down? It would crumble easily, it would barely make a sound.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, tr. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy, “Du, Nachbar Gott, wenn ich dich manchesmal” | Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
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WHEN MY DEAD FATHER CALLED
Last night I dreamt my father called to us.
He was stuck somewhere. It took us
A long time to dress, I don't know why.
The night was snowy; there were long black roads.
Finally, we reached the little town, Bellingham.
There he stood, by a streetlamp in cold wind,
Snow blowing along the sidewalk. I noticed
The uneven sort of shoes that men wore
In the early Forties. And overalls. He was smoking.
Why did it take us so long to get going? Perhaps
He left us somewhere once, or did I simply
Forget he was alone in winter in some town?
ROBERT BLY
spring by safia elhillo
