when christopher citro said, "i love you. i want us both to eat well" and when vladimir nabokov said, "it's cold today, but in a spring way, and i love you" and when wendy cope said, "i love you. i'm glad i exist" and when mahmoud darwish said, "you wrote me "good morning" and i read it as "i love you" and when anne sexton said, "i love you. i wish we were real" and and and
2K notes
·
View notes
let me make you well
.
.
.
// Eileen Myles / @sofiavann / @ell-hs / Christopher Citro //
213 notes
·
View notes
hello i adore your work so much!! i hope you’re having a lovely day. i’d like to request a web-weave on the intersection between love and fruit (like peeling oranges for someone or sharing a peach etc.)
Chaia Heller, After Language
Anne Carson, Decreation
Elvis Presley, I Slipped, I Stumbled, I Fell
William Adolphe Bouguereau, Les Oranges (detail)
Wikipedia definition of the Albanian word for ‘grape’, rrush
Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
Richard Siken, Scheherazade
A vandalised Wikipedia article on mandarins (via @goopy-amethyst)
Nana Mouskouri, Love Tastes Like Strawberries
Lady Lamb, Bird Balloons
Ross Gay, Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude
Denis Sarazhin
Danusha Laméris, Small Kindnesses
Christopher Citro, Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks
Haley Heynderickx, Jo
514 notes
·
View notes
That thing that happens sometimes where
the boardwalk stretches into the forest,
wetlands reflecting sunlight from below,
and you feel like you’re on tour through
a more interesting life than your own.
I’m already gathering what I plan to miss
on the operating table. And your eyes
looking up at me by the bedside light.
It’s going to be almost too hot for Saturday’s
cocktail party but we’re going ahead anyway.
We’ll leave a hose in the lawn in case
anyone wants to spray their toes and
scream like they’re four when you think
you might die and a second later you
want more. Your brother wants more.
Smack your brother. Get in trouble and
now it’s time to go to bed. There’s more
darkness in the yard. I’m not done.
We kept the shades drawn back in
the bedrooms. A sheet hanging in the hall
not to waste the air-conditioning, a separate
world back there, where you lie sideways
on top of the blankets, propped up
on your elbows with a paperback.
The window unit humming in your
parents’ bedroom. You turn a page.
Something happens to your brain and
the rest of your life you want it again.
— Christopher Citro, “Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators in the Mystery of the Rest of Your Life”
623 notes
·
View notes
[TRANSCRIPT:
Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled With Shrieks
—Christopher Citro
I’m doing a balancing act with a stack
of fresh fruit
in my basket. I love you. I want us
both to eat well.
We’re not allowed to buy blackberries
anymore
because they’re mean to their workers
and you
read left-wing news sites. Till when? I
asked and you
said nothing. So that’s one healthy
food off the list.
I’m still buying pineapples and you’re
still eating them.
I guess you’ve never seen the websites
about those.
Nobody in this supermarket knows
that I am a puma.
This morning our cat rolled on the
floor showing me
her belly which I leaned down and
rubbed.
Beneath a backyard pine tree the
neighbor’s cat
was eating one of our cat’s moles—at
least the moles
we rent from the landlord for her. It’s
so complicated
staying alive sometimes. The voices of
the collection
agencies on the answering machine
sound menacing.
They’re paid to sound that way and
they’re not paid
much more than the people they’re
menacing,
which can get you thinking if you’re
the sort of
person who likes to think about that
sort of thing.
Other people subscribe to adventure
cycling
magazines and read about men who
rode across
Turkey in the late 1800s before
anything was
happening in the world. Before
cantaloupes
probably existed. When you could get
an honest
wage for an honest day’s blackberries.
When we
loved like fierce mountain storms,
with the blood
of eagles in our hearts, exchanging
grocery lists
that just said you you you you all the
way down.
END TRANSCRIPT]
67 notes
·
View notes
I'm doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.
—Christopher Citro, Our Beautiful Life WhenIt's Filled With Shrieks
12 notes
·
View notes