sense8

June 30, 2017


chelsea wolfe - 16 psyche

June 17, 2017

what happened to monday? (seven sisters)

June 14, 2017


Okay.
But can she out clone, the Maslany?
Doubt-ful.

johnny flynn - kentucky pill

June 12, 2017

wolf alice - yuk foo


I wasn't sure at first.
Now i physically can't turn it off.

lalka84

June 10, 2017

Star

nike sportswear MEADOW '16


titus adromedon // lemonading

Iconic.

lalka84 // lindenberg

June 07, 2017

in the road

'The capital city. Arrowroot. Water-bur. Colts. Hail. Bamboo grass. The round-leaved violet. Club moss. Water oats. Flat river-boats. The mandarin duck.
—The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon

The sky. And the sky above that. The exchange of ice between mouths. Other people's
poems

My friend says we never write about anything we can get to the bottom of. For him, this
is a place arbored with locust trees. For me, it's a language for which I haven't quite
found the language yet.

The dewy smell of a new-cut pear. Bacon chowder flecked with thyme. Roasted duck
skin ashine with plum jam. Scorpion peppers.

Clothes on a line. A smell of rain battering the rosemary bush. The Book Cliffs. Most
forms of banditry. Weathered barns. Dr. Peebles. The Woman's Tonic, it says on the
side, in old white paint.

The clink of someone putting away dishes in another room.

The mechanical bull at the cowboy bar in West Salt Lake. The girls ride it wearing just
bikinis and cowboy hats. I lean over to my friend and say, I would worry about
catching something. And he leans back to say, That's really the thing you'd worry
about? We knock the bottom of our bottles together.

How they talk in old movies, like, Now listen here. Just because you can swing a bat
doesn't mean you can play ball. Or, I'll be your hot cross if you'll be my bun. Well,
anyway, you know what I mean.

Somewhere between the sayable and the unsayable, poetry runs. Antidote to the river
of forgetting.

Like a rosary hung from a certain rearview mirror. Like the infinite rasp of gravel
under the wheel of a departing car.

Gerard Manley Hopkins's last words were I'm so happy, I'm so happy. Oscar Wilde
took one look at the crackling wallpaper in his Paris flat, then at his friends gathered
around and said, One or the other of us has got to go. Wittgenstein said simply, Tell all
my friends, I've had a wonderful life.'


Poetic Subjects

joanna concejo

June 06, 2017

il y aura un nouveau livre / bedzie nowa ksiazka

robin cracknell

consolation index / vernal

jessica domingo - poetic justice (kendric lamar cover) [brii edit]

June 05, 2017

matusa - tlc (rough)

blade of the immortal


Fuck and yes.

Note to self: Get the rest of the manga, you cretin.

okja

Please be everything i want you to be.

patti cake$

nao - in the morning

June 04, 2017

kwamie liv - perfect grace


On repeat.

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