( via / still from Murnau's Faust )

Circadian Lament.

Poetry when you are young is strange & full of intimations; if you are lucky you write poetry of intimations. Poetry when you are old is full of reverberations. If you are lucky you write poetry of reverberations.

Ing.

"dad’s overcoat
in the charity shop
a fraction of the cost"

--@herbtate5.bsky.social

All taxonomies are stolen.