i dream i am a prince

pity us,
pity the ocean,
here we go.

 voice(s)

563
7
"

You like it under the trees in autumn,
Because everything is half dead.
The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves
And repeats words without meaning.

In the same way, you were happy in spring,
With the half colors of quarter-things,
The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds,
The single bird, the obscure moon ―

The obscure moon lighting an obscure world
Of things that would never be quite expressed,
Where you yourself were never quite yourself
And did not want nor have to be,

Desiring the exhilarations of changes:
The motive for metaphor, shrinking from
The weight of primary noon,
The A B C of being,

The ruddy temper, the hammer
Of red and blue, the hard sound ―
Steel against intimation ― the sharp flash;
The vital, arrogant, fatal, dominant X.

"
— Wallace Stevens, “The Motive for Metaphor”
18
"Ilse, a childhood friend of mine, once found a raspberry in the camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf. Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry, and you give it to your friend."
— Gerda Weissmann Klein, Holocaust survivor (via chouzard)
78

obliteratedheart:

i solve my problems by blatantly ignoring them and going on the internet

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