my heart is a little heavy
julie | xxvi —
"if we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire"
![[JULY IS OVER AND THERE’S VERY LITTLE TRACE] by frank o’hara July is over and there’s very little trace of it, though the Bastille fell on its face— and August’s gotten orange, it will drop on the edge of the world like a worm-eaten sun. The trees are taking off their leaves. So the purity of the streets is coming, low, in white waves. In the summer I got good and sunburnt, winter, so I wouldn’t miss the wet brunt. of your storms. Then it was sand from the surf in my bathing trunks; now snow fills up my scarf.](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9b7c4c5cf93cacebea22d4ad3b8869f0/1b2be3475d8c4d5a-61/s500x750/e3bb11df27a46e6defe229784ce1773758b9e952.jpg)
Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry
Richard Siken, from "Wishbone", Crush
“how could you have forgotten that” i forget Everything. unless i remember
"how can you remember that" I remember Everything. unless I forget
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when anne carson said “what are we made of but hunger and rage?” and when anne carson said “i do not want to be a person. i want to be unbearable.” and when anne carson said “i am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins.” and when anne carson said “revenge is a form of desire.” and when anne carson said “to feel anything deranges you.” and when anne carson said “why does tragedy exist? because you are full of rage. why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.” and when anne carson said
Émotion (Nobuhiko Obayashi, 1966)