( via / via )

I need this poster.

I'm just talkin' 'bout 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤-𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠. I'm just cussing 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑜.

No need for streetlamps when the Aurora is this bright.

      Vallejo: "The Eternal Dice

   My God, I'm crying over the life I live;
it grieves me to have taken your bread;
but this clay, poor and pensive,
isn't the crust fermented in your side:
you have no Marys who leave you!

   My God, if you'd ever been human,
today you would know how to be God;
but you, who are always fine,
feel nothing of what your creation feels.
And man, yes, suffers for you: he's the one who is God!

   Today candles burn in my witch eyes
as in a condemned man's eyes,
my God, you light all your candles,
and we'll play with the old die...
Perhaps, O gambler!, throwing for the luck
of the entire universe, the dark-circled eyes
of Death will turn up,
like funereal snake-eyes of mud.

   My God, and on this night, deaf and dark,
you can't play anymore, because Earth
is a corroded die and, already worn down
from tumbling out luck,
is unable to stop except in a hollow,
the void of an immense grave."

(tr Rebecca Seiferle, 2003)

Study for Ice Storm, Maine.