Wovi - Tumblr Blog

even if you don’t believe in god, you have to believe in narrative. things happen, one after another, world without end. just because you’re self-aware doesn’t mean you can change what’s happening. eventually someone is going to break your heart. eventually something you love is going to be taken away. and then you will fall to the floor crying. and then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking “i am falling to the floor crying” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well and when you’re having sex with your next lover on this very floor they will also notice that you didn’t paint it very well and they will think less of you for it. and then you have to hold the contradictions of sobbing uncontrollably and wondering about grammar in your head at the same time.

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richard siken

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alex dimitrov, july

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ada limón, after the fire

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normal people

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perks of being a wallflower / a little life / matthias & maxime / frances ha / at a dinner party by amy levy

without you. the landscape has changed but it is clear that you were—are, a part of it. i tell myself that no love is wasted, that love i’m unable to share directly finds a way to target. it spreads through terrains, typhoons. it’s ingested and teared by another loved one, and you wipe that tear with your fingertip, and then, my love has found its home. if not this, then there is nothing. i hold on. there’s nothing else to do.

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leanne dunic, to love the coming end

he says to me: ‘is june a memory?’ and i say: ‘it is a wound bleeding acutely still, even though its victim says: “i have forgotten the pain.”’

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mahmoud darwish, the return of june

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franz wright

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taylor byas, the therapist asks me, ‘what are you afraid of?

the most romantic thing a human being can say / to another human being is let me help you vomit. / no human being has ever said this to me / & i keep going to god too clean as though god / is frightened of muddy feet. if i am missing / a hairpin i don’t go at all. please describe / your vomiting; it is like a psalm for me / a place where wilderness might be new. / other people’s dirt makes a lovely frock. / grant i be forgiven in the gush.

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melissa broder, waterfall

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sanna wani, memory is sleeping

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mary oliver

james longenbach / wendy cope / jon kabat-zinn

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jane hirshfield

despite it all: tenderness. do you think i didn’t see you? you asked as you were leaving. i think you saw me completely, & left anyway. love is so embarrassing. i bled in your bed. i’m sorry. i have built you a shore with all my best words & still, the waves.

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claire schwartz, shards with diffuse light

aokigahara

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aaron schwartz, on the other side of grief with ocean vuong

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alexander kluge, history and obstinacy

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nikki giovanni, knoxville, tennessee

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edna st. vincent millay, what savage blossom

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the terrorizers dir. edward yang

i have a truth & a family—which do i serve?

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claire schwartz, bound

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hanif abdurraquib

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miranda july / hanif abdurraquib / natalie wee / august rodin / neil hilborn

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like someone in love / return to seoul