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—
281,532 voters
“Dear God, if you are a season, let it be the one I passed through
to get here.
Here. That's all I wanted to be.
I promise.”
― Night Sky with Exit Wounds
to get here.
Here. That's all I wanted to be.
I promise.”
― Night Sky with Exit Wounds
“All freedom is relative—you know too well—and sometimes it’s no freedom at all, but simply the cage widening far away from you, the bars abstracted with distance but still there, as when they “free” wild animals into nature preserves only to contain them yet again by larger borders. But I took it anyway, that widening. Because sometimes not seeing the bars is enough”
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
“& remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world.”
― Night Sky with Exit Wounds
― Night Sky with Exit Wounds
“Inimene, kes on valinud elukutseks loometee, kaubitseb imedega. Loomulikult vaadatakse ta peale viltu nagu nõiasaatest välja kukkunud šarlatanile. Aga need, kes on loomingu imest osa saanud, ei taha enam kunagi tagasi seda aega, kui nad seda etendust näinud, seda laulu kuulnud või seda raamatut lugenud.”
― Armastuskirju teatrile
― Armastuskirju teatrile
“The Turtle
breaks from the blue-black
skin of the water, dragging her shell
with its mossy scutes
across the shallows and through the rushes
and over the mudflats, to the uprise,
to the yellow sand,
to dig with her ungainly feet
a nest, and hunker there spewing
her white eggs down
into the darkness, and you think
of her patience, her fortitude,
her determination to complete
what she was born to do—
and then you realize a greater thing—
she doesn't consider
what she was born to do.
She's only filled
with an old blind wish.
It isn't even hers but came to her
in the rain or the soft wind,
which is a gate through which her life keeps walking.
She can't see
herself apart from the rest of the world
or the world from what she must do
every spring.
Crawling up the high hill,
luminous under the sand that has packed against her skin.
she doesn't dream
she knows
she is a part of the pond she lives in,
the tall tress are her children,
the birds that swim above her
are tied to her by an unbreakable string.”
― New and Selected Poems, Volume One
breaks from the blue-black
skin of the water, dragging her shell
with its mossy scutes
across the shallows and through the rushes
and over the mudflats, to the uprise,
to the yellow sand,
to dig with her ungainly feet
a nest, and hunker there spewing
her white eggs down
into the darkness, and you think
of her patience, her fortitude,
her determination to complete
what she was born to do—
and then you realize a greater thing—
she doesn't consider
what she was born to do.
She's only filled
with an old blind wish.
It isn't even hers but came to her
in the rain or the soft wind,
which is a gate through which her life keeps walking.
She can't see
herself apart from the rest of the world
or the world from what she must do
every spring.
Crawling up the high hill,
luminous under the sand that has packed against her skin.
she doesn't dream
she knows
she is a part of the pond she lives in,
the tall tress are her children,
the birds that swim above her
are tied to her by an unbreakable string.”
― New and Selected Poems, Volume One
Loona’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at Loona’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
110 books
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16 friends
458 books
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588 books
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633 books
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904 books
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212 books
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349 books
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16 friends
427 books
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42 friends
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