growing-through

[growing-through]

"...What if all possible pain was only the grief of truth? The throb lingering only in the exit wounds, though the entries were the ones that couldn't close." ~ Brenda Shaughnessy. “All Possible Pain.” Our Andromeda, Copper Canyon Press, 2012. Narrative Magazine, [All Possible Pain, narrativemagazine.com].

[growing-through]

Summer Bulbasaur

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from the introduction to emily wilsons translation of the iliad

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Anton Chekhov, from a notebook entry featured in "The Notebooks of Anton Chekhov,"

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poetry is really interesting. when im having a hard time or feel anxious i gravitate towards poetry. i read some, i write my own (granted I don't believe it's good) and i reflect on it. i love poetry, but it also feels like a need now. like a burden. when something happens to me and the hurt is immense i find myself mulling over it in stanzas. i get frustrated that my thoughts are rhythmic and fragmented. searching for the perfect words to truly capture how i'm feeling in the moment but i'm not even writing it down. it's like now my brain wants to write beautiful poetry of my misery. it's interesting and i wonder if anyone else has been like this, even if its for when things are good. anyways your account is really cool i hope you run it for as long as you find love in poetry. and if the love for it is ever over i hope you love something just as much.

yes. sometimes when the hurt is so poignant, i like to intensify it with poetry. it’s cathartic. purging these feelings into poetry. into verses. there was a time in my life when i didn’t believe in the goodness of other people. my despair was too overwhelming. poetry was there for me then (and now) something altered in my brain forever when i read mary oliver saying: “i’ll just tell you this: only if there are angels in your head will you ever, possibly, see one.” my life was changed. even when the poetry isn’t sad, it still feels like a punch to the gut, it’s magical. i love poetry. i love words. i love living inside words. i love tasting them and eating them and chewing them. i love spitting them out and hanging them to dry. i love wearing them over and over and over again. i love poetry. and i love my love for poetry. and i love you, anon. thank you, you’re truly the sweetest. here’s a flower for you🌷♡

[growing-through]

Topaz Winters, from Portrait of My Body as a Crime I'm Still Committing; “High Specific Heat”

[Text ID: “When you smiled, the morning blushed pink / & gold. Violent & tender. Horrifying & warm. / My ache left me behind. I thought: okay. / I could get used to this. / & I did. I got used to you. You became a habit / & god knows I can never get rid of habits. / You, who told me I was worthy. / You, full of ink that tasted like wine—you / translucent & dreaming of flight.”]

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~ from Home by Whitney Hanson

[Image Description: Close-up photo of a page from a poetry book. The poem reads “she didn’t choose you / as hard as it is / that means you must stop choosing her / ~hard truths”. The caption says “~ from Home by Whitney Hanson”.]

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~ from Home by Whitney Hanson

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“Yes, be patient with me. My heart is heavy.”

— Albert Camus, The Possessed: A Play (via wordsnquotes)

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Evelyn Waugh, from Brideshead Revisited (1945)

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Loving You is Easy: On Love.

i love to be a lover <3

Jenny Slate, twitter | A Self-portrait in Letters, Anne Sexton | Bloom Into You, Sayaka Saeki | Kiss Goodnight, IDKHOW | Rêve d’Été, Shanna Van Maurik | You, Carol Ann Duffy | @\chenchenwrites on twitter | No One Belongs Here More Than You, Miranda July | Emily Dickinson, in a letter to Mary Bowels | What Love Will Do To You, Laufey | Pink Starry Flower Field, Jessica Hamilton | I Had a Dream About You, Richard Siken | Sunstone, Octavio Paz (tr. by Eliot Weinberger) | @/brozyglow on tumblr | Poem of the Mountain, Marina Tsvetaeva | Tranquility, Brian McCarthy | I Am a Grand, Living, Buzzing Thing, Emma Bleker | Sophie, The Altogether | When You Ask Me Where I'm Going, Jasmine Kaur | Virginia Woolf, in a letter to Vita Sackville-West | @/lilith-of-stardust on tumblr

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On Love As An Ending.

reworked my second ever webweave because it is genuinely such a mess. it looks much more cohesive now.

Dogfish, Mary Oliver | Like Real People Do, Hozier | The Spring Flowers Own & The Manifestations of the Voyage, Etel Adnan | The Awakening, Joseph M. Martin | War of the Foxes, Richard Siken | Citizen Illegal, José Olivarez | Flowers, Hadestown | End Poem, Julian Gough | I Worried, Mary Oliver | Goodbye, The Altogether | These Violent Delights, Micah Nemerever | Alexandria Burning, Everybody’s Worried About Owen | Dogfish, Mary Oliver (cont.) | What I Could Never Confess Without Some Bravado, Emily Palermo

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“Regenerative experiences: Plunge into the sea. The sun. An old city. Silence.”

— Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980 (via mrsclarkkent)

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2- Mikko Harvey / 3- @beetlejuices / 4- Ocean Vuong / 5- Sarah Kay and Philip Kaye / 6- Franz von Stuck / 7- Cortes Edouard Leon

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On Friendship, Falling in Love and Falling Apart, pt. 2 (pt. 1)

Ode to Friendship, Noor Hindi

The Truth Has Three Sides, Sabrina Benaim

I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song), Fall Out Boy

Autumn, Patty Dickson Pieczka

Unknown

Unknown

Nature Poem, Chen Chen

Planet of Love, Richard Siken

Ever Yours: The Essential Letters, Vincent Van Gogh

Just Like Heaven, The Cure

Speeches for Dr. Frankenstein, Margaret Atwood

The Dialogue of Desire and Guilt, J.D. McClatchy

Someplace Like Montana, Ada Limón

Cold Solace, Anna Belle Kaufman

Fleabag (2016-2019)

Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out, Richard Siken

Your Love Finds Its Way Back, Sierra DeMulder

The Diaries of Katherine Mansfield

Moments, Mary Oliver

[growing-through]

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