jardin botanique | jardin oblique

The traveler’s injustice makes a city out of what one feels…

Tiger is Tiger

Tiger is tiger, and man is man.

These rooms are spilling over, with everything I’ve been.

every day I feel my self filling / as a river fills with sweet rain

The alarm I set was never “started”, so could not wake me.

In the end it was only silence.

You and I, you and I, you and I!

the moon’s been sold
as well, these skies

if you believe in weather
then we live on a spinning top

I found myself, in the corner with the poets; and in the corner of the poets I found Neruda.

raise it to your lips, yes
first taste best

The branching of the Arne River is by this hill
where its voice grows adult from upstream child…