Waltztrvck - Just A Dump Lol

“and you were gazing at me, more than gazing — my gaze was dreaming you, and yours was dreaming me.”

— Pedro Salinas, from “Tell me”; To Live In Pronouns: Selected Love Poems (tr. by Edith Helman & Norma Farber)

Salman Toor, Three Friends in a Cab, 16 x 20 inches, 2021

RUSSIAN DOLL 2.07

— "A Kiss on the Forehead", Marina Tsvetaeva   

[ text ID: A kiss on the forehead — erases misery. / I kiss your forehead. / A kiss on the eyes — lifts sleeplessness. / I kiss your eyes. / A kiss on the lips — is a drink of water. / I kiss your lips. / A kiss on the forehead — erases memory. 1917 ]

Heather Havrilesky, How to Be a Person in the World

— clair de lune, tathève simonyan         

[text ID: i want a “waking up naked under dusty pink silky sheets” scene: / sunlights of hair cascading over the ivory of my back / untethered strands connecting beauty marks / my own constellation of starlight / and as the morning light sashays in / through the cracks / of this chain of blinds / and as this body of mine / welcomes in blues and yellows / there’s a sense of promise / dancing in the air / that’s not going anywhere. / i want a scene of / hands reaching for a door / not for a cover / for in this particular scene / there’s a body that wants to have me in it / and an i who wants to be in this body / i want this symbiotic bliss / this harmonious coexistence / of two opposing forces / reaching for the same door. / [i want debussy playing in the background] / hands reaching for a cup, hands boiling water, hands adding / a spoonful of coffee / hands never burning / hands running through hair / like wild horses / blindly unbounded / like leaves / succumbing to the breath of the wind / but in a good way / because succumbing oneself / doesn’t have to end with a death / not always / at least not when you can hear / clair de lune / softly whispering from the living room. / i want scenes with hands: / hands all over / all the time / hands that love / without a reason and with (one) / because it’s spring / because it’s no longer spring / because they are hands and that’s what they were made to do / because debussy is playing / and what else can one do / but love / unabashedly / with van gogh yellows / and picasso blues / and monet violets / and / i want a scene where / my name is no longer an unintended apology / but a silent promise / like the morning light / dancing in the air / painting its blue hues / yellow in its blues. / i want a scene where / my existence is a reason / and not an afterthought. / i want a scene of me not wanting any of these. / scenes of me naked under dusty pink silky sheets / waiting for the morning light / and knowing that it will come.]

by zeewipark

Jessica Silversaga for A Doll’s House magazine, 2011.