wild carrot

“Queen-Anne’s Lace” – William Carlos Williams

Her body is not so white as

anemony petals nor so smooth—nor

so remote a thing. It is a field

of the wild carrot taking

the field by force; the grass

does not raise above it.

Here is no question of whiteness,

white as can be, with a purple mole

at the center of each flower.

Each flower is a hand’s span

of her whiteness. Wherever

his hand has lain there is

a tiny purple blemish. Each part

is a blossom under his touch

to which the fibres of her being

stem one by one, each to its end,

until the whole field is a

white desire, empty, a single stem,

a cluster, flower by flower,

a pious wish to whiteness gone over—

or nothing.

peace

what I found this morning

The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. 

You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. 

There can’t be any large-scale revolution until there’s a personal revolution, on an individual level. 

It’s got to happen inside first. – Jim Morrison

in the rain