Mary Oliver, "From West Wind." Devotions
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Mary Oliver, "From West Wind." Devotions

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damn… the old cunt finally kicked it…. alexa, play another one bites the dust by… well. i shan’t say
Angela Carter, The Magic Toyshop
[Text ID: “October, crisp, misty, golden October, when the light is sweet and heavy.”]
“There is something terrible / beneath all I am able to say.”
— — Kaveh Akbar, from “There Are 7,000 Living Languages,” Pilgrim Bell (via lifeinpoetry)

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Anne Carson, from "Book Of Isaiah", Glass, Irony and God
“Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyes Loving me in secret.”
— James Wright, “Milkweed,” from The Branch Will Not Break (Wesleyan University Press, 1972)
“Always falling into a hole, then saying “ok, this is not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of the hole which is not the grave, falling into a hole again, saying “ok, this is also not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of that hole, falling into another one; sometimes falling into a hole within a hole, or many holes within holes, getting out of them one after the other, then falling again, saying “this is not your grave, get out of the hole”; sometimes being pushed, saying “you can not push me into this hole, it is not my grave,” and getting out defiantly, then falling into a hole again without any pushing; sometimes falling into a set of holes whose structures are predictable, ideological, and long dug, often falling into this set of structural and impersonal holes; sometimes falling into holes with other people, with other people, saying “this is not our mass grave, get out of this hole,” all together getting out of the hole together, hands and legs and arms and human ladders of each other to get out of the hole that is not the mass grave but that will only be gotten out of together; sometimes the willful-falling into a hole which is not the grave because it is easier than not falling into a hole really, but then once in it, realizing it is not the grave, getting out of the hole eventually; sometimes falling into a hole and languishing there for days, weeks, months, years, because while not the grave very difficult, still, to climb out of and you know after this hole there’s just another and another; sometimes surveying the landscape of holes and wishing for a high quality final hole; sometimes thinking of who has fallen into holes which are not graves but might be better if they were; sometimes too ardently contemplating the final hole while trying to avoid the provisional ones; sometimes dutifully falling and getting out, with perfect fortitude, saying “look at the skill and spirit with which I rise from that which resembles the grave but isn’t!””
— Anne Boyer, ‘What resembles the grave but isn’t’, 2015 (via fuckyeahdialectics)
Someone is posting your afterglow fic as their own in the station 19 fandom on ao3 under anonymous. They linked your fic as if it’s still okay to plagiarize it
Oh wow! Can you send me the link?
nobody does chapter titles like charles dickens

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Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies
“in a world full of temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling.”
― Sanober Khan
Rafael Alberti, tr. by Ben Belitt, from An Anthology of Spanish Poetry: From the Beginnings to the Present Day, Including Both Spain and Spanish America; "Paradise Lost"
[Text ID: “Across centuries / and the void of a world, / sleepless, I seek you.”]
deaf republic, ilya kaminsky // sun bleached flies, ethel cain // mercy, yves olade // hannibal // foghorn, victoria chang // ? // it chooses you, miranda july
Fydoror Dostoevsky // Clarice Lispector

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Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "Postcard," originally published in 1981
Ada Limón, from "Crush", Sharks in the Rivers