outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile


07.30.19

Newborn foals, restless backlot wildflowers, and skies full of swifts. A wee black dog laps at the edge of a river studded with a milky way of tiny brilliant white flowers. Mary Oliver was right: "The fringes of paradise: summer on earth."


//

What are we but holy matches
rubbing against the rough walls
of each other, seeking
to strike aflame




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