I slice oranges in the kitchen.
The countertop worn, notched
with the story of the knife.

I’ve been reading Ovid’s “The Cure for Love.”
You circle my waist with your arms —
kiss the back of my neck.
I remember who we were —
the girl and boy on the front porch
cooling our heels on our way
to the grave.
We believed we could make something
in the dark.

~ Ain’t No Cure, Rishma Dunlop (via clavicola)

04.23.12 /15:12/♥ 269

04.15.12 /17:47

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

04.10.12 /03:21/131 plays/♥ 17

eyes quiver
blurred
from staring at
broken images

i can’t masturbate.
the light,
left blinding

shapes of twisted women.

04.10.12 /03:17/♥ 2

04.08.12 /19:36/♥ 105

Paul Simon “Diamonds In the Soles of Her Shoes”
Live in Zimbabwe 1987

04.08.12 /17:03

04.08.12 /16:43/♥ 338