( via / via )

Thunderstorm on Narragansett Bay.

Trump's image & sound affect me like a very bad stench. I want it to go away. I don't even want to take the time to call him names. I just want to breathe clean air.

The yard takes over.

"THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF MR K

It is cold. Ravens talk around the lake. Deer
and blackbird drink tea. Raven, seer of
disaster at dusk - first stars - talk, K!
The first toad most miserably died from
Hik. Nearby the donkey-dream jawed. The
nose of poor Mr K is bleeding. Lake,
dark lake of the raven. To breathe means
to live, means climbing dreams of
rare adventures. Those, Mr. K’s?"

--Unica Zürn via

"i didnt even know that people could write giant mecha poetry."