“Poetry is the way I fuck you when you’re gone.”
—
Nicola Cayless
From Literary Sexts: Volume One (Words Dance Publishing)
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“In front of my mother and my sisters, I pretend love is cheap and vulgar. I act like it’s a sin– I pretend that love is for women on a dark path. But at night i dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb.– I dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water.”
— Salma Deera, “salt”
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intensified yearning through inescapable absence.
The earth moves slowly
as time rushes past
in this ever suppression
of thought, feeling and desire
and the startling realization
that we don’t share
a space
a time.
I luxuriate in the blossoms
that indicate
that spring has sprung
and you,
you harvest your writing
in the season of
browns and yellows
as leaves fall from trees,
celebrating that fall has fallen.
The combination of our souls
too abstract to satisfy
the universe’s comprehension
of what is to be
and what is not.
Divided by hemispheres,
time zones,
meteorological scopes
and even,
currencies.
Nostalgia over the good old days
don’t bring the same images to mind.
We are undeniably separated
by every conceivable obstacle
and still,
I yearn for you.
I admire the world for creating
a human of your stature
and I curse it
for making you inaccessible.
We are undeniably separated
by every conceivable obstacle
and still,
I yearn for you.
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Meraki (Μεράκι) | ©vivibene1 | Linktree
Greek [may-rah-kee] to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself into your work.
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one of the most important things, perhaps the most important thing I have learned in my life is that nice people can fuck each other up in monstrous ways. people can be bone deep kind and loving and self reflective and still lash out under pressure. people can be earnestly neighbourly and charitable and hospitable and generous and still find themselves in situations where they become selfish. people can be well meaning and easygoing and gregarious and hold deep seated opinions that turn them into vicious little bullies under the right conditions. nobody is just one thing, and nobody stays one way. every person is a kaleidoscope and they will surprise you. you will surprise yourself. it's not a warning and it's not a judgement and it's not an excuse, and it's certainly not a reason to stop trying or to stop trusting. it is just a fact.
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“This is what I like about photographs. They’re proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect.”
— Jodi Picoult
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Ardis and Cat, Chicago, March 2024
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@Tsukinosss / ph @Gunsandguns21
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A Little Slice of Heaven | ©vivibene1 | Linktree
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Interior with Girl Reading (c.1955). Stanley Clare Grayson (British, 1890-1967). Oil on canvas. Colchester and Ipswich Museums.
Stanley, a traveller portrait artist describes himself as single, living at 66 Mount Pleasant, Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, with six other painters, a secretary, matron and three servants. His known paintings are dated in the 1950’s.
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