prettyhysterical-azul

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did you guys see the poem from a couple of days ago in poetry dot org’s daily poem it was so good and a treat to read 

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You're under my fingernails,

You ring through me,

You buzz beneath my skin.

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Two of Cups

This is the spell I don’t say aloud: I want to hear your stories, gather all your myths, sit together in easy silence, argue about whose turn it is to make dinner, or take out the trash, or water the garden— I want to grow things.

And I’m not scared of any of it— the way I might’ve been terrified of myself once, because your heartbeat feels like an ocean, a memory of a place I’ve never been but miss, the way music sometimes feels like home, how I can’t even explain it, but don’t feel like I have to.

The door’s open, darling— the door, my heart, this whole new universe, unexpected and unlooked for, but so welcome and so wanted, a love spell so true I don’t even need to speak it aloud.

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Sara Teasdale, from The Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale; "Song,"

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Bilal Al-Shams, Sacrifice

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We are the mold on the sandwich, follow for more dark and moody poems

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Joseph Brodsky, translated by Howard Moss, from a poem titled "I Sit By The Window,"

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Hermann Seeger (German, 1857-1945)

Two Girls at the Beach

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Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway

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Fydoror Dostoevsky // Clarice Lispector

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“Tranquility” May 2022 8.5x11" Printed on raw canvas

Designed and printed by Ash Allen in Brooklyn, NY

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