i will wade out

June 22, 2019

i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

e. e. cummings

Vile Romance

June 22, 2019

I am naked on someone else’s bed, bearing my
soul with my heart ripped out from its cage and

beating, beating, beating in my hands. I wonder
what it feels like to be loved, so I open my mouth.

I say, DO YOU LIKE ME LIKE THIS? And I wait
as if the answer is yes. I wait as if there is an

answer at all. My nakedness is a concept, like
if I am naked enough then maybe our love will

last forever. But there is no answer, no response.
Things don’t work the way they are supposed to,

and love isn’t love if you have to bribe somebody
with a concept that won’t last. After he kisses me,

I put on my clothes; I don’t put my heart back
where it belongs. I give it to him, all red, all bleeding.

Two weeks later, he texts me saying that all the red
was ruining his clothes.

Keren Chelsea

love letters

June 22, 2019

Write me love letters with your fingernails on my back, and I’ll write poetry with my tongue between your legs..

I love all poetry

June 22, 2019

I have read your poems with my door locked late at night and I have read them on the seashore where I could look all round me and see no more sign of human life than the ships out at sea: and here I often found myself waking up from a reverie with the book open before me. I love all poetry, and high generous thoughts make the tears rush to my eyes, but sometimes a word or a phrase of yours takes me away from the world around me and places me in an ideal land surrounded by realities more than any poem I ever read.

Bram Stoker
Letter to Walt Whitman February 1872

The lure

June 22, 2019

She feels the lure of sitting with a good book, a big thick one of the kind that leave an impression stronger and realer than life itself.

Hanne Ørstavik
Love