once tamed

kiameku:

Natalie Czech Series: A small bouquet by Frank O’Hara Frank O’Hara, Ann Arbor, 1950

kiameku:

Natalie Czech
Series: A small bouquet by Frank O’Hara
Frank O’Hara, Ann Arbor, 1950

(via electrontransfer)

normaltd:

awesome—-world:

A song to feel happy :D!!

─═ڿڰۣڿ☻ڿڰۣڿ═─

hikethenorthwest:

Snoqualmie Mountain, WA

hikethenorthwest:

Snoqualmie Mountain, WA

(via summerbreeze96)

My dear friend, what is this our life? A boat that swims in the sea, and all one knows for certain about it is that one day it will capsize. Here we are, two good old boats that have been faithful neighbors, and above all your hand has done its best to keep me from ‘capsizing’! Let us then continue our voyage — each for the other’s sake, for a long time yet, a long time! We should miss each other so much! Tolerably calm seas and good winds and above all sun — what I wish for myself, I wish for you, too, and am sorry that my gratitude can find expression only in such a wish and has no influence at all on wind or weather. Nietzsche, in a letter to Franz Overbeck (via sisyphean-revolt)

(via electrontransfer)

metaphorformetaphor:

Is it you or the long compassionate wind
That whispers in my ear: alas, alas?

Mark Strand, from  XX  of “Dark Harbor,” in New and Selected Poems. (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009)

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
T.S. Eliot, from “East Coker” (via liquidnight)

(via rebeccation)

Schroedinger’s Cat and the Last Eclipse of the Millenium

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.”

Eric Gamalinda | Schroedinger’s Cat and the Last Eclipse of the Millenium (via swingingaxes)

(via missinglight)