Salinyay-blog - Bananafish

4. If it is true that the earth respires, That it speaks only to those Who command nothing– If it is true that the first man Was fashioned of corn. Of divine shit. Of dust– If a bale of cotton– If color is trance, And trance is to ride the back Of the first great bird In first flight– If the world has ended twelve times– If the atom is cognizant, coy; If light is both pow-wow And tango– If, at the final trumpet, Oil magnates will kiss the ankles Of earth-caked girls who traipse Along the highway’s edge, Hugging the mountain When trucks barrel past– If Satchmo. If Leadbelly– If wind on the horizon, Thundering the trees, Making all of our houses small–

Tracy K. Smith, from “The Nobodies” (via hypocrite-lecteur)

This was the summer I bathed in olive oil and sat on the sidewalks  of Jerusalem eating pistachio ice-cream with the old man whose ancient face tried to explain to me that we fought with our hearts and not our heads– therefore we would never win.

Annemarie Jacir, excerpt of ‘Pistachio Ice Cream’ (via pairedaeza)

‘But, I love him.’ the Sea whispers to the Sun. ‘I know,’ The Sun replies. ‘But I’ve loved him longer. I loved him first.’

The Fall of Icarus - Commentary  | p.d (via lostcap)

Tears of joy fall down A crooked smile appears After all these years

 Nicholas A Browne, Haiku 446 (via wnq-writers)

My heart, calling from a phone booth / in the rain.

Sarah Morgan, from “Train,” Animal Ballistics (via tristealven)

You will reach

for a door and suddenly you’ll be out in the wind touching all the

horribly beautiful things. You’ll say this moment is not my enemy and

sometimes you’ll believe it.

— Joshua Jennifer Espinoza, from “What It Takes To Leave A House,” published in Lambda Literary

the things we learn on our mothers’ laps

see that lady standing there between the window & the fire extinguisher? she’s just lost her father & i think her boyfriend just left her.

why the fuck would you say that?

i’m telling you, i’ve got this superpower. i just know.

how’s that? a superpower?

not a marvel studios superpower, u silly. more like this supreme capacity. i’ve always had it.

when my dad abandoned my mom, she lost herself in the world’s most dangerous drug: poetry.

she used to hold me on her lap while reciting emily brunte & sylvia plath.

i think that’s why i can read into people’s sadness.

when i come across sadness on the street, authentic sadness, the blues crawl out their host & come talk to me. i’m thinking of starting a mémoire or a blog on it. like that humans of new york, u know?

talk about those things we learn on our mothers’ laps…

i reckon everyone who’s lucky enough to have a mum will undoubtedly learn something whilst resting on her lap. my mom used to sit me on her lap while she revised old latin scriptures & tried herself at egyptian hieroglyphics.

that’s why sometimes tombs & churches murmur their secrets to me. they tell me stories about the afterlife & how, if demanded gently, fire can caress the soul the way water strokes the curves of an overflowing vase.

they find it hilarious that we make a big deal out of our own end.

when all there really is, is an everlasting void.

- @skinthepoet

@2wentysixletters come to Paris too!

friends— 

i am heading to greece/greek islands, croatia, slovenia, hungary, austria, czech republic and hopefully germany & the netherlands soon, if you have any recommendations on cool places (ie. museums, cafes, bookstores, etc) to visit, i wanna know! please send them through. 

love and light. 

the dirty & the imbecile

my heart, falling victim to a kidnap my own head had devised,

cries a thousand fears under a flickering lamp.

my heart, freed from a crime my own head once orchestrated,

sings hallelujah in the rain.  

- @skinthepoet

Downtown

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