woodsrisen

[woodsrisen]

I’m halfway here and it’s almost too much.

William Brewer, from “Halfway House Diary,” I Know Your Kind

[woodsrisen]

Te invito a ahogarte.

[woodsrisen]

[woodsrisen]

For instance, what was I before I began.

Cynthia Cruz, from “Hotel Letters,” published in BOMB Magazine (via lifeinpoetry)

[woodsrisen]

And I, I always arrive straight at absence.

Odysseus Elytis, from The Collected Poems; “The Concert of Hyacinths,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[woodsrisen]

[woodsrisen]

& grief was eating all that I’d let it.

Yves Olade, from “Liturgies,” published in Bombus Press (via lifeinpoetry)

[woodsrisen]

karen’s on hiatus so catch me on varian

[woodsrisen]

“ Ouroboros 2 “ by  porcelianDoll

[woodsrisen]

I count                        all the oceans, blood & not-blood, all the people I could be,                        the whole map, my mirror.

— Fatimah Asghar, from “Oil,” published in Poetry

[woodsrisen]

I am still soft, and I can be like wax in your hands. Take me, give me a form, finish me.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Collected Prose; “Ewald Tragy,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[woodsrisen]

We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.

Charles Bukowski, “Letter to William Packard,” July 1985 (via pansypotters)

[woodsrisen]

I’m a girl with a wolf’s heart. I’m stepping out of sorrow. The house collapses. […] I’m a collaps- ing house. Come collect me. I’m stepping out of sorrow. Everything else is left howling.

Dalton Day, from “Stepping Out of Sorrow,” published in Souvenir  (via mortalpractice)

[woodsrisen]

I shatter what light has done to me: in my wildest dreams where the given body is a form of flight & in this latest version I step into the wreckage, to find the other side of me blooming toward you.

— Michael Wasson, from “Self-portrait Toward a Fugue [No. ___ in ___♭Minor],” published in Kenyon Review Online

[woodsrisen]

Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway