• “If Moses had seen the way my friend’s face blushes when he’s drunk, and his beautiful curls and wonderful hands, he would not have written in his Torah: do not lie with a man” (rabbi yehuda al-harizi/judah ben solomon harizi, book of taḥkemoni iirc)
• “The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.” ( Mikko Harvey, from “For M,” Foundry)
• I want to stay on the back porch / while the world tilts / toward sleep, until what I love /misses me, and calls me in. (Dorianne Laux, from “On the Back Porch,” Only As the Day Is Long: New and Selected Poems )
• “I am sitting at my kitchen table waiting for my lover to arrive with lettuce and tomatoes and rum and sherry wine and a big floury loaf of bread in the fading sunlight. Coffee is percolating gently, and my mood is mellow. I have been very happy lately, just wallowing in it selfishly, knowing it will not last very long, which is all the more reason to enjoy it now.” (Tennessee Williams, from a letter to Donald Windham)
•I cannot write about Damascus, without the jasmine climbing on my fingers. I cannot say Her name, without my mouth getting overcrowded with apricot juice, blackberries and quince” (Nizar Qabbani, A Green Lantern on Damascus’ Door)
• “Put your heart in it” “My heart’s with you. I don’t have it anymore” (Dear Ex, 2018)
• “Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.” (In The Mood For Love, 2000)
• I’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week (Arctic Monkeys)
• This tweet
• Sharing a bubble bath on a rainy day, Santa Cruz, February 2015.
okay when hozier said “I really like the idea of love as a violent act—not to the person that you love, but against the world. To say to somebody, ‘I love you; by extension, I hate all other things.’
Richard Siken, “Snow and Dirty Rain,” Crush (2005) // Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (2019)
[”We have not touched the stars, / nor are we forgiven, which brings us back / to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, / not from the absence of violence, but despite / the abundance of it.”
“All this time I told myself we were born from war—but I was wrong, Ma. We were born from beauty. Let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence—but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it.”]
“Always this feeling of being “too much” for them—a creature from another planet— so I would try to scale myself down to size, so that I could be apprehend-able by (lovable by) them.”
— Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks 1947-1963
i think one type of love is that moment as a child when some other kid tells you honeysuckle flowers taste like honey, and you try it for the first time and it really does taste sweet