flora nocturne

    of contemplation’s plume I am the nocturnal bloom unfurling in the zenith of another zero hour I am the angel’s trumpet beset with lunar dew an aperture imbibing of the moon’s beatitude I am Endymion’s yawn drawn in the drowsy impasse of Selene’s everlasting fervency I am the budding lips of the ominous jimson the […]

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Artist of the day: Hermen Anglada Camarasa

My love affair with Spanish, symbolist painters continues…  Biography via The World’s Artist: “Hermenegildo Anglada Camarasa (1871–1959) studied at the school of fine arts of the Llotja de Barcelona, where he was the student of Modest Urgell, whose work influenced his first landscapes. In 1894 he moved to Paris, where he embraced a more individual […]

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everything’s roses

The Rose Tree by William Butler Yeats — ‘O words are lightly spoken,’  Said Pearse to Connolly,  ‘Maybe a breath of politic words  Has withered our Rose Tree;  Or maybe but a wind that blows  Across the bitter sea.’  ‘It needs to be but watered,’  James Connolly replied,  ‘To make the green come out again  […]

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of rambling roses

born in the fever dreams of Degas dainty brushstroke delineations conceived surreptitiously on a canvas of ephemeral linen heavy with striated tenderness in the pallor of blushing brides petite parfum ballerinas their arabesque stems gathered in enormous, trussed bouquets  bespoke of cherubs the ceremonials of flowers an unspoken dowry of buds clutched for the sake of […]

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just like gatsby

he was a subconscious chaos masking his perpetual absence in colorful metaphor a dim light on a dark night vaguely flickering on someone else’s dock a viridescent beacon kept alight by the electricity of his own apathy seducing common moths by colluding with the autumnal moon he who fancies himself an aetheist aurora borealis is merely a […]

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counterpoint

  I don’t even fucking know you, but I want to. And even without knowing you, I know how to. The imperfect difference in knowing, and going.   It lies there like a corpse that no one feels comfortable dressing.   You don’t even fucking know me, but you need to. And even without knowing […]

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