Pedantology
There would still remain the never-resting mind,
So that one would want to escape, come back
To what had been so long composed.
The imperfect is our paradise.
Note that, in this bitterness, delight,
Since the imperfect is so hot in us,
Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.
--Wallace Stevens, Poems of Our Climate
So that one would want to escape, come back
To what had been so long composed.
The imperfect is our paradise.
Note that, in this bitterness, delight,
Since the imperfect is so hot in us,
Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.
--Wallace Stevens, Poems of Our Climate
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UnknownUnknown0Plays
“Putting the Dog to Sleep”, The Antlers
You said I can’t prove to you
You’re not gonna die alone
But trust me to take you home
To clean up that blood all over your paws
You can’t keep running out
Kicking yourself off the bed
Kicking yourself in the head
Because you’re kicking me too
