looks like sun.

poor language it doesn’t deserve such treatment
and all my stumbling phrases never amounted
to anything worth this feeling
oh this heaven,
never could describe such a feeling as I knew it
words were never so useful so I was screaming
out a language that I never knew existed before.

wonderfulambiguity:

Nicolas Yantchevsky, Les Vacances de Maigret, 1954

I have already started shopping for Valentine’s Day. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

This is one of the many reasons that I love you. <3

(Source: sicklikesidandnancy)

Touching Each Other’s Surfaces

Skin meeting skin, we want to think
we know each other scientifically; we want to believe
it is objective knowledge
gives this conviction of intimacy,
makes us say it feels so right.
That mole below your shoulder blade,
the soft hair over my thighs—
we examine our bodies with the precision
known only to lovers or surgeons,
all those whose profession is explication,
who have to believe their own words.
And yet, having memorized each turning,
each place where bone strains or bends,
each hollow, each hair, each failure of form,
we still encounter that stubborn wall,
that barrier which hides an infinite vastness
the most sincere gesture can’t find.

Nor does emotion take us further
than the shared heat of our bodies
aware of themselves,
the flattery of multiple desires.
We rest in each other’s arms unexplained
by these currents of feeling rushing past
like ripples over a pool of water
whose substance never changes,
reflecting each wave, each ribboned crossing,
without being really moved.
We search each other’s eyes so long
beyond our own reflections,
finding only the black centers,
the immeasurable interior we’ll
never reach with candle,
never plumb with love.
Perhaps it is just this ignorance,
this absence of certainty, lack of clear view,
more than anything, brings us together,
draws us into and through each other
to the unknown inside us all,
that gray space from which
what we know of ourselves
emerges briefly, casts a transient
shadow across the earth
and learns to believe in itself just enough
to believe in some one else.

-Carol Jane Bangs

black-tangled-heart:

by Mikhail Abramov

I don’t agree with this caption. But that’s not the point.

One of my resolutions this year is to remember to breathe. I think I’m off to a good start.

(Source: silfarione)

Burning the Old Year →

rabbit-light:

Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
and absence of shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle after the blazing dies.

-Naomi Shihab Nye

troubled:

brother sparrow (by posternaks)

independiente:

to conquer (by posternaks)