(via mexicaligentleman)
I, remote again
and everything imperceptible
I dream things, seas, sickle-sweetand violet - a world without origin
with my bones I sense the hinge
in the field, the severity of language
the no-longer
only hope cowers, blinded in the light
of the carnation’s dawn, saffronwristed
how will I go
and carry the nameless?
(via modifiedgrandma)
(via kahuna68revisited)
(via lalagoofy)