strikinglit

[strikinglit]

social skills training, solmaz sharif

#poetry #solmaz sharif

[strikinglit]

“When the piece of a body is left (or a home is left) then the body begins being a constellation: one piece is there! one piece is there! If I leave my hair in the comb in my mother’s house & walk out the door to go to the airport, then all of a sudden the body is everything between me & that lost piece. The body is made up, then, of roads & crickets & azucena & mud. How large we are. How ramshackle, how brilliant, how haphazardly & strangely rendered we are. Gloriously, fantastically mixed & monstered. I have been asking myself to be more attentive & porous—to pay attention to the way every inch of me is animal, every inch of me is earth. I am trying to remember this. Where is my cloud? Where is my sea? What do the lungs hunt? What does the eye have in common with the teeth?”

— Aracelis Girmay (via elucipher)

#poetry #aracelis girmay

[strikinglit]

“I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.”

— Hélène Cixous  from “The Love of the Wolf” (via hvorenn)

[strikinglit]

Writing a poem is not so very different from digging a hole. It is work. You try to learn what you can from other holes and the people who dug before you. The difficulty comes from people who do not dig or spend time in holes thinking that the holes ought not to be so wet, or dark, or full of worms. “Why is your hole not lined with light?” Sir, it is a hole.

Heather Christle, The Crying Book

#heather christle #the crying book

[strikinglit]

I tried to penetrate his mind. He knew I was doing it and he threw up against me such strange images that I gasped. What was it I'd seen for an instant? I didn't even know. Hell and heaven, or both made one, vampires in a paradise drinking blood from the very flowers that hung, pendulous and throbbing, from the trees.

— Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat

#anne rice #the vampire lestat #fiction

[strikinglit]

“God, she had me by the throat, by the hip bone, by the moon. God, she hurt me with my own horns.”

— Natalie Díaz, from The Cure for Melancholy Is to Take the Horn; Postcolonial Love Poem, 2020

#natalie diaz #poetry

[strikinglit]

Interview with the Vampire, Anne Rice

#interview with the vampire #Anne rice #fiction #I just really like the bit about massaging the brain

[strikinglit]

Interview with the Vampire, Anne Rice

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #fiction

[strikinglit]

I rlly love that poem from that children’s book where a little girl writes a poem about worms and her teacher gives her an F. wait

#anastasia krupnik #poetry #this user enjoys children's poetry very much

[strikinglit]

source

#on loneliness #dante émile #poetry

[strikinglit]

WHY ARE YOU HAUNTED?

A survey

#poetry #Joan tierney

[strikinglit]

HAND ON MY HEART. HAND ON MY STUPID HEART

ross gay / susan sontag / unknown / richard siken / warsan shire / lana del ray / tturing / hera lindsay bird / richard siken

#Ross gay #Susan Sontag #Richard silken #warsan shire #Lana del ray #tturing #hera lindsay bird #poetry

[strikinglit]

- Shannon Lee Barry

#poetry #shannon lee barry

[strikinglit]

“I am attracted to ellipsis, to the unsaid, to suggestion, to eloquent deliberate silence.”

— Louise Glück 

#louise gluck

[strikinglit]

Micah Nemerever, "These Violent Delights"

#micah nemerever #these violent delights #prose

[strikinglit]

- Jeanette Winterson, "Written on the Body"

#jeanette winterson #written on the body #prose #writing inspiration

[strikinglit]

Follow you down to the red oak tree As the air moves thick through the hollow reeds Will you wait for me there until someone comes To carry me, carry me down

See I have not, I have not grown cold I have stole from men who have stole from those With their arms so thin and their skin so old But you are young, you are young, you are young

Then somebody laughs like it's all just for hell As though we could not be saved from the depths of the well But the cloth that I make is a cloth you can sell To pay for the gossamer seeds

Names get carved in the red oak tree Of the ones who stay and the ones who leave I will wait for you there with these cindered bones So follow me, follow me down

Follow me, follow me down Follow me, follow me down Follow me, follow me down

- James Vincent McMorrow, "Follow You Down to the Red Oak Tree"

#lyrics #writing inspiration #follow you down to the red oak tree #james vincent mcmorrow