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Koen-dori, Shibuya. Photo by Masahisa Fukase, 1953

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I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale (Sergio Martino, 1973)

#watch later

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Koyo Okada - Mount Fuji, 1920s

via

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#text

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Paul Pfeiffer, The Playroom, 2012

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Origami Blossoms

Deer how sweet was twilight before dawn broke before us

we were but mere humans grasping for reality’s final frame lips of flesh concerning truth

my metaphors were not safe here at last you may see my faults i thought

a clear path of gravel laid before doubt ushered us in matter it grew faint

as divinity consumed you my eyes retreated from their cradle of solitude

even the hermits came out to greet you this day in your ascension

the forest was yours not a single fallen leaf had omitted submission from your celestial body

of gale, how sweet was your command to deliver these creatures of their burdens captive to their own ideas

I could feel the group collect  our thoughts what must she be

it was then you offered me a feather as your essence tickled me

I heard a voice you never spoke a word but i knew

when we first met that you might lend me your faith that of a mustered seed

of a white dress a dove even but, instead it was this

an offering she told me don’t let her go

as faith has fooled many before you he’ll fool you too

if you aren’t careful make nests of your twigs hatch hope in your hearth

and just as you’ve warmed up too the idea of forever will appear as

this dream that you held on to the one where she was there when you let go and said nothing back.

#deeryou

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Gallery

There is no way around this really

I want more often More or less take That more of course Spare me some give

Less of a spectacle and undress me in a briefcase make…me go, I insist I return

With The outside in my shoes This time

You wait at the door now I want less of you but

Need more now No I won’t Loosen my grip From the door handle She smiles She is you This is less Less is more More of a spectacle Less is me, recklessly…

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Via magicofartnouveau

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Seeking Solidarity, by Bekah Zeimetz.

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#pohunpoetry

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Resetnyc

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I’m not even mad, that’s amazing

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Cassius Clay (Muhammad Ali) and the custom made record player of his 1960 Cadillac.

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90s faye wong

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