good drainage for mind grapes

May 21

hell yeah

hell yeah

(Source: noirlac)

david:

We turned the Times blue!

david:

We turned the Times blue!

(Source: alittlespace)

May 20


Björk

Björk

(via supercreeps)

Eating the cupcakes.

Eating the cupcakes.

[video]

High windows, adoring crowd crushed, camera duels on Flickr.

High windows, adoring crowd crushed, camera duels on Flickr.

Represent blue (drinks) on Flickr.

Represent blue (drinks) on Flickr.

Represent blue (drinks) on Flickr.

Represent blue (drinks) on Flickr.

Workin bloggin flickring tumblring yahoooeing

Workin bloggin flickring tumblring yahoooeing

uutpoetry:

How Rarely the Eternal Gets Enough Control over a Man

For the first time a small brain
has settled over Toronto.
Layers and layers of crustaceans are
sleeping with women.

Oh doors of eternity!
The image burned in my mind remains:
a sesquipedalian
from Tangier
repeating the infinite gentleness
while we drink the coffee.

Living with one’s grandparents
rates poorly according to YYYY,
the magazine that analyzes handstands
and the fresh currents of doubt.

One merely has not to love
to be a totem pole in the dreams
of the orchids of Xochimilco.

Toronto’s tale of woe
sustained the Frogonian evening—
the intellectuals’ minds are moving around
in a strainer of eternity
as we sit together on the camel.

Love is a transaction
of the general and ephemeral.
I see heaven, full of receipts,
and the foreleg is blue.

art by EϟHseed text: The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch

uutpoetry:

How Rarely the Eternal Gets Enough Control over a Man

For the first time a small brain
has settled over Toronto.
Layers and layers of crustaceans are
sleeping with women.

Oh doors of eternity!
The image burned in my mind remains:
a sesquipedalian
from Tangier
repeating the infinite gentleness
while we drink the coffee.

Living with one’s grandparents
rates poorly according to YYYY,
the magazine that analyzes handstands
and the fresh currents of doubt.

One merely has not to love
to be a totem pole in the dreams
of the orchids of Xochimilco.

Toronto’s tale of woe
sustained the Frogonian evening—
the intellectuals’ minds are moving around
in a strainer of eternity
as we sit together on the camel.

Love is a transaction
of the general and ephemeral.
I see heaven, full of receipts,
and the foreleg is blue.


art by EϟH
seed text: The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch