Journal of a Nobody
The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space. ~Italo Calvino
Commonplace book of a teacher, poet, and counselor.
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Spring: trees flying up to their birds.
— Paul Celan, from “Backlight” in Collected Prose, trans. Rosmarie Waldrop (via proustitute)(via johnmyersart)
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Flocks of redwings and yellowheads over field of milo, Calipatria, California
(via an-itinerant-poet)
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We look with
each other’s eyes,
we find
a place:
rain
we say
like a story
the half-sentence
green,
I hear:Your mouth
with the speech
of birds
carries twigs and feathers
up to my brow— Johannes Bobrowski, “Bird’s Nest” (via)(Source: hypocrite-lecteur)
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
— Emily Dickinson (via suddenlydetailed) -
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The Splendid Fairywren. Best avion name in all of Australia.
(Source: koz-and-effect, via veareflejos)
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card by Bethan Samuel on Flickr.
