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Irina commented on the post, separate 1 year, 1 month ago
oil and egg yolks and water
I once saw an experiment
that put soap in droplets of oil
and water and they called it
dream cellsI wish they had added some
spice to it; some unseemliness -
Irina wrote about the word suppose 1 year, 8 months ago
the act of supposition is embarrassing. that’s all it is. and all the memories connected to these fragmented sentences- I guess they’re symbolic of all the depth beneath each word I say. puddle sized; oceanic.
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Irina wrote about the word braid 1 year, 8 months ago
The hipster thing to do. I think of Toms; of Tom; of Axe Excite. I’m an angel falling, an innocent daisy chain woven into the tight braids of anti-aging.
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Irina wrote about the word sticks 1 year, 11 months ago
Today I walked away from both white buildings, their squares jutting into the summer blue. Green trees. Grey sidewalks. Every color alive, every branch and leaf clear even through my watering eyes.
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Irina wrote about the word cigarette 1 year, 11 months ago
I’ve always thought they were attractive. It’s slim and it curls into smoke; held by the lips and inhaled with a hard look in the eyes. There’s a steeliness to smoking.
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Irina wrote about the word crush 1 year, 11 months ago
I crush rock after rock against each other, hair sometimes catching on the edges. Tears, rage, frustration, some kind of joyful hopelessness – a million emotions and a million tiny splinters fly with each pound.
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Irina wrote about the word lust 1 year, 11 months ago
I am wrapped up in your being
I am crumpled around your heart
Trying to find the meaning
In each hug, and word, and part
of you that I admire: nose
and forehead, chest and chin;
I have clenched this little rose
And loved the prick, again. -
Irina wrote about the word morals 1 year, 11 months ago
Strength.
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Irina wrote about the word antlers 1 year, 12 months ago
I sprinkled star glitter on my cheeks and when people pointed, I told them it was magic. I go camping every year to an island, and one day after I stepped out of the shower, I nearly stepped on a deer standing outside the stall. Someday I will go to the forest and bathe as [...]
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Irina wrote about the word failed 1 year, 12 months ago
it is not my fault but I have failed. I keep sharing with people, hoping to feel validated. Just another form of gossip. No fresh visions tonight; tonight I lick my wounds and ignore the pressing words.
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Irina wrote about the word history 1 year, 12 months ago
I never write things down; I always speak them: loud so you will hear and pass them on. keep them going. don’t hold on. my mountains and my falling rocks; my islands and my charted spots.
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Irina wrote about the word predict 2 years ago
If I could predict anything, with any certainty of fulfillment, I would say that all our children’s eyes will be blue, and their hair glinting tiny hints of gold in a certain light.
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Irina wrote about the word belief 2 years ago
The earth is round, and in it are a billion round people. Circles everywhere: in the eyes, in the veins, on our elbows and knees and spotted across our faces. I think it’s a game of connect the dots or maybe hide-and-seek.
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Irina wrote about the word wonder 2 years ago
I walk by her flower garden every day, and I see the daises get taller, unfold their whiteness. Every time I’m tempted to take one, but then I think of myself, living on a second story, feeling all the feelings of my baby flowers. I haven’t plucked one yet.
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Irina wrote about the word smile 2 years ago
His smile is such a pale, small movement. Every time I bring it out I bask in its tiny lunar light. I am a fiery sun furiously spinning around the half-lidded moon.
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Irina wrote about the word train 2 years ago
Eating the rails, hungry for the greener grass. Never able to get off the tracks.
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beautiful!
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Irina wrote about the word station 2 years ago
Grim wheels and tracks; I think of Bob Dylan and rainbow gatherings, of the nomadic life and other cliched scenes. I think of Polish women waving goodbye, their platochki gripped in their hands.
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Irina wrote about the word funeral 2 years ago
So death comes and goes, and we weep in throes
when we remember; when we remember we’re supposed to remember. -
Irina wrote about the word forgetting 2 years ago
Wish I could; wish I couldn’t. the process of aging is a process of circular reasoning, where I am reborn every day and every day I remember the past lives of my life. It’s a series of colors and tiny lines connecting all my thoughts back to what I loved, to what I lost.
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Irina wrote about the word painted 2 years ago
tiny little fingertips
pressing down, in colors running
summer suns and breezes captured
loosely outlined in the water - Load More
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