"Forgive the savage texture of the spoil
Tinted so barbarously by the clay
The rusty iron and the ocean-spray
Which lifted up my body from the soil.
Forgive the complicated brittle coil
Of my infirm invention, which I lay
Where you may pause, and pass, and never stay.
Here are the shocks of maize, the honey and oil,

The fruits like harvest moons, the fabulous land,
The crystal hills, the veiled prismatic plain;
And you will come, and you will not remain,
Nor leave a trace along the gilded sand.
So presently you will be come and gone;
Here’s a strange road for you to walk upon."

--3linor Wyli*, Trivial Br*ath (1928)



"Flaarrrf. I'mmmm wanna read ... my flarrrfff ..."


A Family in Baghdad.


Thank Raygun. (via R*b*cca Blood)