( via / me )

O Tell Me, Brutus?

"The Heart

The wild heart grew white in the forest;
Dark anxiety
Of death, as when the gold
Died in the grey cloud.
An evening in November.
A crowd of needy women stood at the bare gate
Of the slaughterhouse;
Rotten meat and guts fell
Into every basket;
Horrible food.

The blue dove of the evening
Brought no forgiveness.
The dark cry of trumpets
Travelled in the golden branches
Of the soaked elms,
A frayed flag
Smoking with blood,
To which a man listens
In wild despair.
All your days of nobility, buried
In that red evening!

Out of the dark entrance hall
The golden shape
Of the young girl steps
Surrounded by the pale moon,
The prince’s court of autumn,
Black fir trees broken
In the night’s storm,
The steep fortress.
O heart
Glittering above in the snowy cold."

--Wright & Bly's Trakl

I Know There's Something Going On.

"It is possible to imagine a grand back-to-America manufacturing strategy that does not require inflicting pain and economic suffering on the American people and on the rest of the world. It is possible and good to bring manufacturing jobs back to America, and to rebuild an upwardly-mobile middle class by focusing on technical training, local ownership, and reskilling through incentives and strategic, carefully-considered tariffs that are rolled out over time. But that is not what is being pursued, and it's not what is being done." --Jason Koebler via

"A financial crash, Kathy agreed, is a good time to be in the occult business."