I feel the chords
reverberating against my spine
put down the guitar,
show me how you play.
I watch you laying on the bed,
Yet so much more can still be said
Your batting eyelashes
Are the focus of my camera flashes.
I would be the biggest fool,
If I didn’t capture it
On my camera spool.
After we flew across the country we
got in bed, laid our bodies
intricately together, like maps laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York, your
Fire Island against my Sonoma, my
New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho
bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas
burning against your Kansas, your Eastern
Standard Time pressing into my
Pacific Time, my Mountain Time
beating against your Central Time, your
sun rising swiftly from the right my
sun rising swiftly from the left your
moon rising slowly from the left my
moon rising slowly from the right until
all four bodies of the sky
burn above us, sealing us together,
all our cities twin cities,
all our states united, one
nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. — Sharon Olds, “Topography” (via jlwickman)
Jean Harlow, 1930s.
Colorado River exploring expedition, boats at Green River Station, 1871
Coney Island, New York by Henri Cartier-Bresson c. 1946
I have a huge obsession with siamese twins.