By Gettymuseum

@triinpaja

“The moon is honey on the mouths of madmen”

— Guillaume Apollinaire, from Claire de Lune; Alcools: Poems (tr. by Donald Revell), 1913

excerpt from a poem you can find exclusively in my poetry book 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺, available on Amazon 💫

when I say “everyone’s on their own timeline”, I mean it.

there’s no right age to learn something by. there’s no right age to be settled down, to move out of home, or to start your own family. there’s no right age to start working, if you work at all. there’s no right age to graduate.

life isn’t a series of boxes you need to tick. do things at your own pace. slow down if you need to. it’s okay.

0903, O.L. / Tumblr: @3lsahart / Peggy Toney Horton / September Days, In New England Fields and Woods, Rowland E. Robinson / Unknown / Alexander Theroux / Memory of Water, Reina María Rodríguez / September, Helen Hunt Jackson / Wallace Stegner / Instagram: @kjp / H. Stuart / Unknown / Unknown / Henry Rollins / Margaret Atwood / Diario Cuatro, DC de Oliveira / Virginia Woolf / Unknown / September 1st, D. E. / Beginning and ending with my death, Zeina Hashem Beck / The Whole Word and Other Stories, Ali Smith / Turquoise Silence, Sanober Khan / Victoria Erickson

Oscar Wilde, De Profundis // @i-wrotethisforme // Jorge Louis Berges // @smokeinsilence //@viridianmasquerade //Jorge Louis Berges // @honeytuesday // Kaveh Akbar // F. Scott Fitzgerald // AKR //Olivie Blake, from “Alone With You in the Ether” // Kaveh Akbar, Pilgrimage

Wednesday, 7th July 2021

As the thunder roars in such tumultuous pain, the sun singes the rim of every cloud until the whole sky is cloaked in a brightened sadness, a softening grey. And the world will sit in shallow wine while the teardrops of the encroaching night play in ripples across the sun's sleeping face, waiting for the moon blank and ghostly behind the starless sky. It is new tonight but hidden from sight, it bows in heavenly patience.

smoking cigarette & sipping mango, watching the world spin: fighting the urges, my mind is a maze, a cage of contradiction, lost in addiction, losing to my misery, life presents me blessing, good things, in which candid moments of bliss, lie awake & alive, alive as essence, greenery is all I need, nature's naked gifts of life, breathe breath into me, ouroboric wandering idol, cosmic ghost; inward & outward, great thing of wondrous depth, not in death.

Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems 1927-1979; from 'The Moose'

you never truly appreciate the intimacy of the expression “I'll gut you like a fish” until you actually gut a fish