

Pickle Inspector
@fondlyRegarding
he/him. Private Investigator. If you got a Pickle, I'll inspect it icon by PR-O banner by Selan-pike
Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque, A dull dark white against the day's pale white And abstract larches in the neutral light. And then the gradual and dual blue As night unites the viewer and the view, And in the morning, diamonds of frost -Excerpt from Pale Fire, Vladimir Nabokov #poetryposting
She hears, upon that water without sound, A voice that cries, “The tomb in Palestine Is not the porch of spirits lingering. It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay.” We live in an old chaos of the sun, Or old dependency of day and night, Or island solitude, unsponsored, free, Of that wide water, inescapable. Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail Whistle about us their spontaneous cries; Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness; And, in the isolation of the sky, At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink, Downward to darkness, on extended wings. -an excerpt from Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens
He said, Look. Look. And they did. He said, Lift up your shirt. And I did. He slid his fork beneath my ribs — Yes, he sang. A Jesus side wound. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. He reached inside and turned on the lamp — I never knew I was also a lamp — until the light fell out of me, dripped down my thigh, flew up in me, caught in my throat like a canary. Canaries really means dogs, he said My Brother My Wound by Natalie Diaz #poetryposting
Reading Troll Sun Tzu and this passage reminded me of @singularityManifest “Be extremely subtle even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.” It's almost as if he wrote it about you specifically.










