I am intoxicated and I am watching Spiceworld with my cat and a popsicle and it is everything.
Anonymous said: I absolutely love your nipples.
…I’ll take it.
paranthesis about an almost lover, years ago
you hunger for ‘I love you’.
he says everything else,
but the words that come out of his mouth are so beautiful
that you start to think they must be an improvement on the concept;
the evolved aesthete’s version of love.
love has no substitute,
and any other word that tries to fill that space means ‘absence’.
this knowledge changes everything.
-elena siddal, 6/14
Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor,
for the eternal idleness of the imagined return,
for rare flutes and bare feet, and the August bedroom
of tangled sheets and the Sunday salt, ah violin!
When I press summer dusks together, it is
a month of street accordions and sprinklers
laying the dust, small shadows running from me.
It is music opening and closing, Italia mia, on Bleecker,
ciao, Antonio, and the water-cries of children
tearing the rose-coloured sky in streams of paper;
it is dusk in the nostrils and the smell of water
down littered streets that lead you to no water,
and gathering islands and lemons in the mind.
There is the Hudson, like the sea aflame.
I would undress you in the summer heat,
and laugh and dry your damp flesh if you came.