Hairfillofsecrets - Untitled

hairfillofsecrets - Untitled

More Posts from Hairfillofsecrets and Others

11 months ago
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)
On Shame And Yearning (pt.2)

on shame and yearning (pt.2)

1 year ago
image

[ID: The “girls when” meme with several stick figures crying, fighting or throwing up and text saying “it’ll pass”. End ID] id from @srdcovka ty !!

1 year ago

“Good luck finding someone who can be told eighty thousand times how replaceable they are.”

“Good Luck Finding Someone Who Can Be Told Eighty Thousand Times How Replaceable They Are.”
“Good Luck Finding Someone Who Can Be Told Eighty Thousand Times How Replaceable They Are.”
“Good Luck Finding Someone Who Can Be Told Eighty Thousand Times How Replaceable They Are.”

Some angst for you 😔🤲 GIF nuked the quality so the clear images are below <3

(proship dni ‼️)

10 months ago
Summer Solstice

BY STACIE CASSARINO

I wanted to see where beauty comes from
without you in the world, hauling my heart
across sixty acres of northeast meadow,
my pockets filling with flowers.
Then I remembered,
it’s you I miss in the brightness
and body of every living name:
rattlebox, yarrow, wild vetch.
You are the green wonder of June,
root and quasar, the thirst for salt.
When I finally understand that people fail
at love, what is left but cinquefoil, thistle,
the paper wings of the dragonfly
aeroplaning the soul with a sudden blue hilarity?
If I get the story right, desire is continuous,
equatorial. There is still so much
I want to know: what you believe
can never be removed from us,
what you dreamed on Walnut Street
in the unanswerable dark of your childhood,
learning pleasure on your own.
Tell me our story: are we impetuous,
are we kind to each other, do we surrender
to what the mind cannot think past?
Where is the evidence I will learn
to be good at loving?
The black dog orbits the horseshoe pond
for treefrogs in their plangent emergencies.
There are violet hills,
there is the covenant of duskbirds.
The moon comes over the mountain
like a big peach, and I want to tell you
what I couldn’t say the night we rushed
North, how I love the seriousness of your fingers
and the way you go into yourself,
calling my half-name like a secret.
I stand between taproot and treespire.
Here is the compass rose
to help me live through this.
Here are twelve ways of knowing
what blooms even in the blindness
of such longing. Yellow oxeye,
viper’s bugloss with its set of pink arms
pleading do not forget me.
We hunger for eloquence.
We measure the isopleths.
I am visiting my life with reckless plenitude.
The air is fragrant with tiny strawberries.
Fireflies turn on their electric wills:
an effulgence. Let me come back
whole, let me remember how to touch you
before it is too late.

summer solstice by Stacie Cassarino

9 months ago
SOMEPLACE LIKE MONTANA

Now when I go to the grocery store,
I’m amazed at the wide aisles of bright food and food-stuffs, and it’s nothing like the bodega I shopped in for years,
in Brooklyn, between the bars we liked. Once, when I was going for groceries,
I ran into T, and we decided we needed to drink rather than shop, and we did.
There were a lot of beers on tap,
and the taps were all different like toys
in a dentist’s toy chest, so I said,
I’ll have what she’s having,
and maybe it was snowing out,
and it seemed to be at a time when
every shirt I bought at the secondhand store would turn out to be see-through,
but I wouldn’t know it until I was out.
So, a lot of conversations would start,
Is this shirt see-through? And it was.
We talked for a long time, grocery bags
empty on the chair, and we both talked about moving to someplace like Montana
and how sometimes it would be nice
to see more sky than just this little square between the bridges and buildings,
but then we’d miss Brooklyn, and each other, and we ordered another beer.
T was writing a play, also some articles,
and we both just needed some money,
and maybe to make out with someone
who wasn’t an asshole. But also, we wanted
to make great art. T was really good at naming things so we decided she should be a Titleologist and she liked that, so she agreed.
What would we do if we lived in someplace like Montana?
We’d go for walks, and look at trees, and write and look at the sky.
Yes, and we’d cook and go to those huge grocery stores that have toy cars attached to the carts so kids
can pretend to be driving.
Yes, and we’d probably have kids, too.
All of this seemed really far off and not like us at all, so we ordered another beer and said, Life is long.
Now, I’m walking around the grocery store
in Kentucky and I’ve just looked at trees, and sky,
and I should write something, so I ask T to tell me what to write about, she says, Saturation, and I think of that feeling when you’re really full, or life is full and you can’t think of anything else that could fit in it, but then even more sky comes and more days
and there is so much to remember and swallow.
I ask T what I should call the thing I write about Saturation, because she’s a titleologist, and she says, Someplace Like Montana.

someplace like montana by Ada Limón

11 months ago
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's
I Beg You To Love Me, Say That I'm Enough, But You Tell Me— Why Are You Like This? I Think There's

i beg you to love me, say that i'm enough, but you tell me— why are you like this? i think there's something wrong with you.

for @shestrying

thanks to @acelania for finding the unknowns!

in image / desperation sits heavy on my tongue, tumblr user tullipsink / mary oliver, ‘north country’ / virginia woolf, letter to violet dickinson / in image / blythe baird, from if my body could speak / Alice in Bed: A Play' by Susan Sontag (link in comment) / lynee rae perkins, criss cross / elena ferrante, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay' (trans. Ann Goldstein) / rainer maria rilke, from rilke’s book of hours / in image/ in image

9 months ago

they should invent a way to save your mother

1 year ago

#the batman #robertpatterson #littlewetmanweknowyoucan'tspeaktopeople

hairfillofsecrets - Untitled
10 months ago

not sure if anyone is interested in this but here is a list of the most joyfully vital poems I know :)

You're the Top by Ellen Bass

Grand Fugue by Peter E. Murphy

Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro

Everything Is Waiting For You by David Whyte

Lawrence Ferlinghetti Is Alive! by Emily Sernaker

Instructions for Assembling the Miracle by Peter Cooley

Barton Springs by Tony Hoagland

Footnote to Howl by Allen Ginsberg

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman

Tomorrow, No, Tomorrower by Bradley Trumpfheller

At Last the New Arriving by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

To a Self-Proclaimed Manic Depressive Ex-Stripper Poet, After a Reading by Jeannine Hall Gailey

In the Presence of Absence by Richard Widerkehr

Chillary Clinton Said 'We Have to Bring Them to Heal' by Cortney Lamar Charleston

Midsummer by Charles Simic

Today by Frank O'Hara

Naturally by Stephen Dunn

Life is Slightly Different Than You Think It Is by Arthur Vogelsang

Ode to My Husband, Who Brings the Music by Zeina Hashem Beck

The Imaginal Stage by D.A. Powell

Lucky Life by Gerald Stern

Beginner's Lesson by Malcolm Alexander

Presidential Poetry Briefing by Albert Haley

A Poem for Uncertainties by Mark Terrill

On Coming Home by Lisa Summe

G-9 by Tim Dlugos

Five Haiku by Billy Collins

The Fates by David Kirby

Upon Receiving My Inheritance by William Fargason

Variation on a Theme by W. S. Merwin

Easy as Falling Down Stairs by Dean Young

Psalm 150 by Jericho Brown

Pantoum for Sabbouha by Zeina Hashem Beck

ASMR by Corey Van Landingham

A Welcome by Joanna Klink

From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee

At Church, I Tell My Mom She’s Singing Off-Key and She Says, by Michael Frazier


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