poetic bones


When you were young you were all thorax & wing. Odd how fragility is necessary for flight.


(Source: weza)

I strip down to nothing, less than nothing,
I have shed my skin, hung it from a tree
like an idea I was too scared to write
down.
Gregory Sherl, “The Oregon Train in the Last Moments Before Dusk”
(via engravings)

(Source: hush-syrup)

(Source: noelietowers)

foxmouth:

Anthony Cudahy

  1. Untitled, 2013
  2. Study ?, 2012
  3. Passage, 2012
If a painting really works down in your heart and changes the way you see, and think, and feel, you don’t think, ‘oh, I love this picture because it’s universal,’ ‘I love this painting because it speaks to all mankind.’ That’s not the reason anyone loves a piece of art. It’s a secret whisper from an alleyway. Psst, you. Hey kid. Yes you.

This, from The Goldfinch, about art, is how I feel about books. (via irisblasi)

In my head books are wearing trench coats, barely visible in the shadows of the alleyways I tend to run away from, but that doesn’t make this any less true.

(via harperperennial)

But you are my nomad and I love you sideways daily. Sideways because I have to beam my love in all directions, hoping it bounces off something and eventually finds you.
—Richard Siken, from The Long and Short of It (via engravings)

(Source: courcel)


Sammy Slabbinck
ADRIFT

Sammy Slabbinck

ADRIFT

Love says, ‘I love you.’ I love you if you’re in China. I love you if you’re cross town. I love you if you’re in Harlem. I love you! I would like to be near you. I’d like to have your arms around me. I’d like to hear your voice in my ear. But, that’s not possible now so—I love you. Go.
—Maya Angelou, [x] (via engravings)