( via / via )

Red growing.

"The sun there sputters on the verge and goes
Whirled off in ashes; the earth swells after it,
It's night, and cruel things, talons and beaks,
Dash criss-cross in the dark..."

--Trumbull Stickney

Spiral of spirals.

"The Dead

The graves grow deeper.
The dead are more dead each night.

Under the elms and the rain of leaves,
The graves grow deeper.

The dark folds of the wind
Cover the ground. The night is cold.

The leaves are swept against the stones.
The dead are more dead each night.

A starless dark embraces them.
Their faces dim.

We cannot remember them
Clearly enough. We never will."

--Mark Strand, Reasons for Moving (1968)

god’s gonna cut u down.