"It is important to die in holy places. That was one of the secrets of the desert."
— Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
The first time
he looked at her
everything will burn” by Anaïs Nin (via champagne)
her mouth is a cathedral
you go there to confess your sins
and have them forgiven
her thighs are the altar
where you worship her
her hips are holy
when you touch them
you feel cleansed
and full of fire simultaneously
she is a goddess
she is terrifying
with hands like silk and sandpaper
she is the place you go to sin
she is the place you go to repent
someone should have told you
not to love this way
you cannot love people like they
don’t make their own mistakes
some people do not want to be worshipped
some people do not want to
some people do not want
to be the place you go to find God
I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do.
A box made out of leaves.
What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.
Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.
From the landscape: a sense of scale.
From the dead: a sense of scale.
I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.
Everything casts a shadow.
Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.” by Richard Siken, "Detail Of The Woods" (via letters-to-nobody)
I want to live like that little fig tree
that sprouted up at the beach last spring
and spread its leaves over the sandy rock.
All summer its stubborn green fruit
(tiny flowers covered with a soft skin)
ripened and grew in the bright salt spray.
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good
and Evil was…