chloegoround:

creation (hand of god)

there’s a poem on my tongue

that longs to be written down


for far too long i have been silent

my tongue growing heavy with words unsaid


there’s an aching in my thighs

and a hole where my heart should be


love used to seem so foreign to me

i realize now she was in my arms all along

i’m sick of these lovely things

always

slipping

through

my

fingers

now i will reject pride

these marks of youth disappear

torn through with a dagger like teeth

smitten by my angelic light

searing through my own hand of god.


there is a sort of

righteous violence

in being reborn


i will be grateful for phantom pains

scorching like flames

flames to purge the rot


a house burns down

surrounded by a white picket fence

and from the ashes rises a shining light


this is what it means

to transmute fury


this is what it means

to leak sunlight like blood


like a blade, i cut through sin

i will make room for the new

cultivating change

in my own garden of Eden


and change will come

oh, change will come


i will be here ready when it does


c.s.l.

sugar-salt-salt:

…and here it was Christmas Day, so I put on big boots and coat and went out to do some snow standing. Not since childhood! I had forgot how astounding it is. I went to the middle of a woods. Fir trees, the teachers of this, all around. Minus twenty degrees in the wind but inside the trees is no wind. The world subtracts itself in layers. Outer sounds like traffic and shoveling vanish. Inner sounds become audible, cracks, sighs, caresses, twigs, birdbreath, toenails of squirrel. The fir trees move hugely. The white is perfectly curved, stunned with itself. Puffs of ice fog and some gold things float up. Shadows rake their motionlessness across the snow with a vibration of other shadows moving crosswise on them, shadow on shadow, in precise velocities. It is very cold, then that, too, begins to subtract itself, the body chills on its surface but the core is hot and it is possible to disconnect the surface, withdraw to the core, where a ravishing peace flows in, so ravishing I am unembarrassed to use the word ravishing, and it is not a peace of separation from the senses but the washing-through peace of looking, listening, feeling, at the very core of snow, at the very core of the care of snow.

—Anne Carson, “Merry Christmas from Hegel”, Float

sourdeluxe:

what you don’t get is science exists because people can love. medicine exists because people love each other enough to want each other to live long healthy lives. astronomy exists because someone loved the stars and the planets enough to track them through their ever changing position in the darkest night. science exists because humans are curious little creatures and we want to know the world around us and understand it like it does us. we know stars and planets worlds away, we’ve sent cameras worlds away, all because we love the universe, and we also put love in those satellites!! we sent the sound of a 100 languages, lovely messages, the sound of rain and a laugh, all out there just in case there’s someone in the universe looking for us like we do them, and so that they know that they were never alone, and we sent them the most simple loving things we could find.

science exists because people can love