Lost To Be Found

…for we are in such fragile skin, so close to getting lost in the in-between.

Eimear McBride, from The Lesser Bohemians (via luthienne)

there are some stains only a dark rain can make.

Stacey Waite, from “when someone asks if you believe what you just said,” the lake has no saint (Tupelo Press, 2010)

I do not want to name it, / I want to watch it faint / heart-beat, pulse-beat / as it quivers, I do not want / to talk about it, / I want to minimize thought / concentrate on it / till I shrink, / dematerialize / and am drawn into it.

H.D., from Selected Poems; “Tribute to the Angel,” (via xshayarsha)

💪🏻💅🏻👯 I love girls

I’m currently rereading Life On Mars by T.K Smith & I swear my feet might be grounded in this old city but my head is somewhere in between a burning star & the edge of a distant galaxy. 

I see you as a god / at the crossroads burning your secrets for lamplight.

Sade Murphy, from “self portrait: acetone and hesitance carved into linoleum,” published in Joint (via lifeinpoetry)

I know I used to live without you but that was before I knew the brown speckles of your eyes or the softness of your lips. Before your laughter became my favourite sound and your smile the brightest part of my day. That was before I fell in love with you. Now you’re a part of me like the blood in my veins or the air in my lungs and I need you just as bad. I can’t imagine a day without you and I hope I’ll never have to again.

(via ifthenightcouldtalk)

I swallowed the entire ocean, just to make sure that you could never drown again.

dontforgetcoffee  (via wnq-writers)

Dear Dr. Frankenstein

I, too, know the sciences of building men Out of fragments in little light Where I’ll be damned if lightning don’t 

Strike as I forget one  May have a thief’s thumb, 

Another, a murderer’s arm,  And watch the men I’ve made leave Like an idea I meant to write down, 

Like a vehicle stuck  In reverse, like the monster

God came to know the moment  Adam named animals and claimed  Eve, turning from heaven to her

As if she was his To run. No word he said could be tamed. 

No science. No design. Nothing taken Gently into his hand or your hand or mine,  Nothing we erect is our own. 

- Jericho Brown (The New Testament)