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"Poems are not written...", Andrey Voznesensky (translated by metamorphesque)
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desired by many
taken by none
understood by few
guided by One
hardened by nature
softened by love
as so below
so as above
— merry meet, merry part, & merry meet again
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Never compete
never compare
always content
always aware.
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There are still places in which you can pour yourself without any purpose nor cause nor intention nor plan and that in itself is an ignition for a strange sort of grace that extends beyond circumstance.
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It’s something of a recurrent renaissance to romanticize - if not capitalize on - the ways in which we cope with guilt, shame, despair, dejection, etc.
I talk often with colleagues how we’re living in a time that may as well be considered a historic pinnacle. What if archeologists hundreds of years in the future regarded us in the same light we regard the world’s pyramids, Tesla’s coil, and pre-colonial medicine?
I used to be in awe of historic renaissances, but from a place of wishing to be there, not here; when there may be some brown-eyed trauma-stricken bookworm aching for the current one we reside in 300 years in the future.
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“Come over, she’s cooking tonight,”
– a love letter
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Blaming others for my baggage is akin to yelling at someone because I have this heavy luggage of unread letters addressed solely to me. Now I can understand why it’s said to carry oneself with grace. I can acknowledge that slow, individually curated pace that’s said to come with opening oneself up.
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some call it antiquing others call it time traveling
some call it history others call it myth
some call it prayer others call it manifestation
some call it a pattern others call it a prophecy
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When I was younger I collected things I can hold
Now that I’m getting older I find myself collecting more things that I can’t like
Stories about childhood
Sunlight
Jokes over coffee
Presence
Observing love being exchanged
Catch-up conversations
Time for being unproductive
Time for being hella productive
Discipline
Smiles, waves, and bows
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fyodor dostoevsky (the brothers karamazov), charles bukowski (a vote for the gentle light)
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i imagine the tower of babel to be more of a multi subdivision hotel with gated accesses to secret buildings that are somehow both on and off site, rather than like, the tower of pisa
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Japan trip, 2023
A small fraction
2/2
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Japan trip, 2023
A small fraction
1/2
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The reconciliation between imagination and reality
#artists on tumblr#witch community#me#writerscommunity#journal#my face#san diego#my notes#mine#my#spilled words
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Daydreaming about houses overgrown with climbing plants
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