Reflections About Summer

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reflections about summer

A Separate Peace, John Knowles / Stand by Me dir. Rob Reiner / Why are you haunted?, filmnoirsbian

More Posts from B-luish and Others

1 month ago
Training

BY DIANNELY ANTIGUA

The puppy won’t stop eating rocks and moss.
Sometimes I pry open her mouth to find

whole splinters of bark on her pink tongue. We try
to train her how to sit, how to stick out

her paw when we ask. When she poops in the house,
we bring it to the yard so she knows where to go

next time. And later, after it’s dried in the sun, after the flies
have had their fill, we scoop it up and throw it in the woods.

Here, the world is perpetual March,
and we love a dog as if that’s the only thing we can do, as if

death cannot touch this slice of New England, the trees
growing a canopy of shade just for us.
Yesterday, we strapped the smallest life jacket
to her furry body, took her swimming for the first time.

We watched her paddle from the shore to the center of the lake,
then back again until she grew tired. And last night

while we argued about things that won’t
matter in a month, he was still petting the puppy’s wet head,

and I cried like I’d never known a kindness
so pure and gentle as that, as a pat on the head

for doing nothing but existing. I wouldn’t
call this jealousy, but there is no word

in my human tongue that seems appropriate.
It’s the feeling of all the stones I swallowed in my youth

growing  jagged in my belly. And I scratch
the surface of my skin with any sharp thing

I can find to cut them out.

training by Diannely Antigua

1 month ago
Everything this year gave me it took back
quicker—lovers, money, reckless smiles
of restless friends. According to the awful math
of planets, summer’s next. I brace for autumn
to come for it the way I used to collect you
drunk at a bar. If a season wants to stay—
to linger past enunciation like you were given to
so oft en—why stop it? What will October make
of its belligerence? Superheroes begging parents
to let them outside without jackets, you and I sweating
clean from the past? August is still here but you’re not
so this time I paddle out alone, rowing the rare thing
easier without you. By sundown the water is warmer
than the air breezing over it. It radiates like a man
next to me in bed and I stretch my arms across it
out of instinct. The ranger’s truck in a far fi eld
cranking doo-wop because he thinks he’s alone.
I stroke slow to the backbeat, harmonies splitting
and rejoining as they’re carried to me over the water.
If they were birds we’d call that murmuration, fi sh
we’d call it schooling. If they were you, I’d know
that what we call the bad year has fi nally let go.

sneaking onto the reservoir again by Robert Wood Lynn

1 month ago

“I swear I only want to hear about you, to know what you’ve been doing. It’s a hundred years since we’ve met- it may be another hundred years before we meet again.”

— Edith Wharton

1 month ago

to be perfectly honest i think that ghosts being transluscent and faded is kind of antithetical to what they represent. they're an echo that cannot move on, cannot fade out - they should be oversaturated and stiff and strangely out of place and unchanging, like something preserved in clear glass.

3 weeks ago
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Louise Glück, “Unpainted Door” Poems 1962-2012 / Ingmar Bergman, Bergman On Bergman Interviews With
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Louise Glück, “Unpainted Door” Poems 1962-2012 / Ingmar Bergman, Bergman On Bergman interviews with Stig Bjorkman, Torsten Manns and Jonas Sima / Moonlight 2016 dir. Barry Jenkins / Fiona Apple, Second Bite interview by Craig McLean, The Guardian / Eighth Grade 2018 dir. Bo Burnham / Norman Rockwell, Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party / Anne Carson, “The Anthropology of Water” in Plainwater

1 month ago
Tori McCandless, "Post-Glacial"

Tori McCandless, "Post-Glacial"

1 month ago

“a community without romance risks being brutish and crass, superficial and brittle, cruel and even muderous. . . i don’t mean just romantic romance. i don’t just mean erotic romance. . . i mean the romance that allows us to soften our voices when we see each other.”

maya angelou, 1998

1 month ago

An Ode to 'Everything Everywhere All at Once' by David Gate

The real multiverse is not the other side of a sci-fi story mechanic but it is all the lives we live at once: mother, daughter, partner, business owner, immigrant & citizen of the state who fills out tax forms. Somewhere in the gaps between those lives are the crumpled expectations of the dreams that once animated us. One thing becomes inevitable: all the different versions of ourself must reconcile. That can happen either by floating into the bagel-shaped void or by accepting we live within a life shaped by the consequences of all our decisions — everything, everywhere, all at once. We can feel crushed by the outcomes from a life’s worth of decisions weighing upon us, but they are not as heavy as the weight of the choices that we now face. Who am I going to be? What shall I become? I know who I wanted to be and that didn’t happen. But I don’t have to be stuck here. I can still disrupt the pattern. I can say sorry. I can name the desires unfulfilled. I can cherish what I have. I can forgive myself — a million different versions of myself — a million times over.
1 month ago
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
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b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
you've got to believe in the poetry

because everything else in your life will fail you, including yourself

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