May 2013
Poets and artists live on frontiers. They have no feedback, only feedforward....
– Marshall McLuhan (via reckon)
rendered
now, as if I had roses underneath
ordinary skin, i have come to blossom
into tears and whitewater rapids
full
.
ghostly, the wishes of underlying
thoughts, watery films of
the way we kiss. cool
time and machines
to transport
the mind to its
own excuse.
.
this is a grave, too
this evening light, this
slow tempo. this is a
remembrance of all
the sand that’s ever
been...
Your daughter’s face is a small riot,
her hands are a civil war,
a refugee...
– Warsan Shire, from “Ugly” (via the-final-sentence)
She quietly expected great things to happen to her, and no doubt that’s one of...
– Zelda Fitzgerald (via sparkledontfade)
love zelda.
poet on fire: Lifelines →
writingsforwinter:
When the palm reader takes my left hand in her right one,
she informs me that I will live longer than my younger brothers,
and one of them will die from a cocaine overdose, the other
an accidental drowning. When I told my parents this, my father
went on a roadtrip to…
Baby, I have no idea how this will end. Maybe the equator will fall like a...
– (via ahuntersheart)