December 2011
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la tua mano è nella mia finché ce la lasci.
– Franz Kafka, Lettere a Milena (via alicevsalice)
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Richard Siken, "Detail of the Woods"
poetryeater:
I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do.
A box made out of leaves. What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.
Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else. I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.
From the landscape: a sense of scale. From the dead: a sense of scale.
I turned my back on the story. I sense of...
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