Also known as per-astra and (sas): http://per-astra.tumblr.com

What you'll find here: art, quotes, prose, poetry.

My writing

I recall that I stood before the breaking waves,
Afraid not of the water so much as the noise,
[…]
But in those days what did I know of the pleasures of loss,
Of the edge of the abyss coming close with its hisses
And storms, a great watery animal breaking itself on the rocks,

Sending up stars of salt, loud clouds of spume.

- Mark Strand, from XLIV of “Dark Harbor,” in New and Selected Poems. (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009)

I do believe in an everyday sort of magic—the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.

-  Charles de Lint (via apoetreflects)

lamescapes:

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sky like this before and it’s incredible

with-grace-and-guts:

Waking up in Heaven by blue mountain thyme on Flickr.

Lift up your dark heart and sing a song about
how time drifts past you like the gentlest, almost
imperceptible breeze.

- Jim Harrison, from “Cold Poem,” Saving Daylight (Copper Canyon Press, 2012)

Don’t believe our outlines, forget them
and begin from your own words.
As if you are the first to write poetry
or the last poet.

- Mahmoud Darwish, from “To a Young Poet,” trans. Fady Joudah, Poetry (March 2010)
0ce4n-g0d:

Sunrise on the lake by Marat Alihmanov

I let alphabets cling to me
as I climb the thread of language
between myself and the world.
I muster crowds in my mouth:
suspended between language and the world,
between the world and the alphabets.

I let my head
listen to the myth,
to all sides praising each other.
And I shout at the winds from the top of a mountain.

Why does my tongue tell me to climb this far?
What is the distance between my voice and my longing?
What is there?

- Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi (tr. Atef Alshaer and Sarah Maguire), from “A Body” (via weissewiese)
natgeofound:

The Statue of Liberty hails dawn over New York Harbor in 1978.Photograph by David Alan Harvey, National Geographic Creative

natgeofound:

The Statue of Liberty hails dawn over New York Harbor in 1978.Photograph by David Alan Harvey, National Geographic Creative

Don’t you dare, for one minute,
believe that my kindness makes me
anything but insurmountable.
I did not unzip my chest to every kind of hurt,
and stagger back, wounded and alive,
just to hear you call me weak for trying.

- Ashe Vernon (aka latenightcornerstore), from her poem, Softness, in Words Dance 16. (via wordsdancemag)

Your hands came before mine,
they have touched you in every place,
in every way,
I want to touch you.

I kiss your palms and your fingers
whisper their secrets to me… things
they want me to know, things
I shouldn’t know,

painful, wet things
even you have forgotten.

- Peregrine (via youreyesblazeout)

colin-vian:  Mantha Tsialiou  

colin-vianMantha Tsialiou