heavy petting zoo

creatures-alive:

(via 500px / steller’s jay by Lee Barlow)
"

The one who begins this poem won’t be the same
As the one who will end it. Already

Fifteen minutes have passed since I wrote those lines.
I take my shirt off. The day is getting warm.

Yesterday I learned two words: Geheim, which is German
For secret. Temem, which is Arabic

For plenitude. In a few hours a hundred million people
Who do not speak the same language

Will gaze at the last eclipse of the millennium. Bonheur,
what a beautiful word when formed by the mouth

Of a French Buddhist. Didn’t I tell you words
Should be emptied like a vessel, didn’t I tell you I loved

Schroedinger’s cat. Kept for days in a closed box
The cat can either live or die, but until we look

It is neither dead nor alive. Next question. Ask me what light
Feels like, at the instant when it falls. The one

Who ends this poem is not the same as the one
Who will stand accused and be forced to deny it.

Can sorrow be weighed in gravitons? Is fear genetic?
Does the soul know it exists? Does it echolocate its way

In this world, looking for an exit? The inferno that we form
by being together. ’ Calvino. I use these words

To keep from looking away, ensorcelled by the radiantly
Mortal, but with zero yearning. X = wonder,

Vivid under the spell’s recurring question: Peut-on
Naitre-mourir? Lust kills joy

Instantly: half glass fully empty. Diamond cusp,
Be beautiful, brief, and blinding.

“Schroedinger’s Cat and the Last Eclipse of the Millenium,” Eric Gamalinda (via commovente)

(via jeanetteleblanc)

8

gioblackpeter:

Year Of The Crocodile 2013 Mixed media drawing on archival paper. 8.5” x 11”
argonauticae:

♕  D O W N,  D O W N,  G O N E: a mix for orpheus, descending

somewhere a man is standing at a dark gate, lyre in hand. he is not weeping; he has wept so long that he is emptied out, and the spirits of the woods wept with him. now his eyes are dry as stones, and his heart as hard. he knows where he must go; he knows what he must do he knows where this grey road leads. his foot is on the path. he is setting out. he is gone.

you are my sunshine peter broderick | ashes hauschka & hilary hahn | bow to string iii: air to breath daniel bjarnason | Þú ert sólin olafur arnalds | elegia jacaszek | feelings for something lost in two parts (pt. 2) library tapes | they being dead yet speaketh johann johannsson | words melt away rothko
prismpixels:

this is literally me.
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