about me 💌
she/her | sideblog | early 30s | header | profile photo is thomas blackshear | divider | bio is from romantic comedies | occasional untagged queue
tag list 📝
📚 book reviews
📖 weekend reads
❤️ recommendations
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Andulka

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
Three Goblin Art
$LAYYYTER
Game of Thrones Daily
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
untitled

JVL
h

ellievsbear

Kiana Khansmith
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Love Begins
trying on a metaphor
Xuebing Du
Claire Keane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
seen from Japan

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@typewriter-worries
about me 💌
she/her | sideblog | early 30s | header | profile photo is thomas blackshear | divider | bio is from romantic comedies | occasional untagged queue
tag list 📝
📚 book reviews
📖 weekend reads
❤️ recommendations

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“A Ritual to Read to Each Other” by William E. Stafford
[ Text ID:
If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star. ]
Dust by Michael Meyerhofer It seems we’ve left skin in each other’s lungs. I should have looked under your bed skirt for my wallet, but how could credit cards compare to the sneeze after we’ve parted? Gone and still you make me reach for a tissue—still my palms turn circles in the red breakwater of your heartbeat. I want to tell you, I have nothing but respect for your ribcage now that we both know it’s not big enough to hold us.
chloe payne
source

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Failure to Cope "Under Capitalism"
Another Confession, Michael Wasson
Elegy to the time it takes to realize the futility of elegies by Bob Hicok
Sundance - Antonia Tyz Peeples
American , b. 1957 -
Oil on canvas. , 12 x 16 in.
Southwest, Santa Fe -- December 14th, 2025
Etsy

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Wyoming/Colorado Border
— In Mrs Tilscher's Class, Carol Ann Duffy, from 'The Other Country' (1990)
[text ID: That feverish July, the air tasted of electricity.]
Failure to Cope "Under Capitalism"
march 20, 2016
Against Empire by Jim Moore

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From The New Yorker - 'The Call to Worship' by Bob Hicok...
[Irish Centre for Poetry Studies]
[ Text ID:
The possibility that the zero gave birth to the universe, that all our somethings come from nothing, the fear of being alone like that, children of chance, orphans down to our atoms, is mother to the idea of god. God
is a dress we slip over solitude, a mask for oblivion to wear, a rule-giver in a world where no flower or bear cares that we are here or what we do.
I prefer a theology of silence, the eschatology of the shrug, a religion of holding my wife’s hand for now.
But, if the industry of the church is what it took to give me bells ringing Sunday mornings, to which crows sometimes rise and deer turn, I’m grateful for a sound that pulls me out of myself, lifts my head toward sun and clouds, into the up and all, the blue, the on and on of it, when I bend the only knee I have to bend, feel happily small, contingent, and held, by what I can’t say, short of everything.
Burn Lake 3 by Carrie Fountain