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Transcript under the cut

[Poem title: -1 (oct 27 2021). Poem transcript:

 if someone asked me today “what do you crave most” i’m not sure i’d be fully at peace with my answer, but i think it would start by the starving for tenderness. of that i am almost certain.   “what do you crave most” the warm huffs of sleepy exhales against the back of my neck in the almost-dark of an imaginary room, in an imaginary bed—your chest, my back, your arms, my hands in this order precisely, and then the rest while we rest in the forgotten stretch of 3:45 and 5:27 AM. of that i am almost certain.   “what do you crave most” the violence of eyes upon eyes upon a mouth, the violence of a kiss that fits in the corner of your mind yet not quite out- of-the-possible kind. an unbearable look. an unbearable miss. all of my befores superimposed over all of my futures, terribly unprepared for the warmth yet to come. i live off hope, of that i am almost certain.   “what do you crave most” you. of that i am almost certain.   “what do you crave most” looking at myself looking at you, the hint of a smile ghosting all the way up to the crinkle in my eyes, the softness in my brows—you know, the kind that screams absolution while the blossoming remains. of that i am almost certain.   “what do you crave most” me once i have taken that one-way ticket for the caen-paris train, of that i am almost certain.   “what do you crave most” peace, self- confidence and the feeling of universe’s rightedness when you hold me in place.   a little bit less strain, a little bit more love that remains, of that i am almost certain.

End of the poem. Poem by Au, 2021. End of the transcript.]

[huilederose]

Transcript under the cut

[Poem title: amongst almost strangers. Poem transcript:

to discipline myself and my fate, i have been pouring the heavens inside of me—took her hand in my hand and followed her to the street next door. the sky was low and the rain was warm and

                                                  deliciously,                                                   deliriously, i learned to dance like nobody was watching. her hand in my hand, without

a care in the world—the world, now unwinding “you thought you found a friend”

    ��                                                “i found a friend in                                                        you and all the raindrops amongst almost strangers”

i replied, kissing fate’s hand—

my soul, undone, her eyes, forgiveness

as sharp as light breaking up clouds in sun rays and rain soft over a pitter-patter of heartbeats, to discipline myself and my fate, the heavens pouring outside of me

End of the poem. Poem by Au, 2021. End of the transcript.]

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“So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.”

— R. Arnold

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Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?

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Adonis, from "The Wound", Selected Poems

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Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours

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“I am trying to wander more. I am trying to breathe more, to love my lostness,”

— Noor Hindi, from “On Language and Mourning,” The American Poetry Review (vol. 48, no. 4, July/August 2019)

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“I do not regret my body / but I regret the hands of most / who have touched it.”

— — Kayleb Rae Candrilli, from “Transgender heroic: all this ridiculous flesh,” Water I Won’t Touch

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L'été est étincelant et bref. Il s'arrache au printemps en cinq jours, il s'épanouit en vingt, il se convulse en dix et c'est l'automne.

 Jean Giono, Ennemonde et autres caractères (via exhaled-spirals)

[huilederose]

Transcript under the cut

[Poem title: to have and to hold. Poem transcript:

tenderness, saved for you and a little bit of all my love, for two— how i long to feel the warmth of love’s sun on my own, with you oh, darling, your shadows won’t deter from your energy, your softness, your— you see, it shines through they say “If soulmates do exist, they’re not found. They’re made.” well, i want to build a life around us, around you all my love, it’s true— i have ached and ached and grew, my colours a wavering hue of purple, silver, blue— there is a place i have kept safe, for you. it is a fold of my soul, a home, to start anew— i have raised its walls for protection but, most importantly, opened its windows— that’s how i knew i had tenderness, saved for you and a little bit of me, too

End of the poem. Poem by Au, 2021. End of the transcript.]

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Waterloo Bridge, Fog, 1903, Claude Monet

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Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1955–1966”

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Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980

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Sylvia Plath, from “Three Women.”

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“Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?”

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

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Pablo Neruda, tr. by W S. Merwin, from “Tonight I Can Write.”

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The Entrance to Giverny under the Snow, 1885, Claude Monet