I said perhaps Patagonia, and pictured
a peninsula, wide enough
for a couple of ladderback chairs
to wobble on at high tide. I thought

of us in breathless cold, facing
a horizon round as a coin, looped
in a cat’s cradle strung by gulls
from sea to sun. I planned to wait

till the waves had bored themselves
to sleep, till the last clinging barnacles,
growing worried in the hush, had
paddled off in tiny coracles, till

those restless birds, your actor’s hands,
had dropped slack into your lap,
until you’d turned, at last, to me.
When I spoke of Patagonia, I meant

skies all empty aching blue. I meant
years. I meant all of them with you.

[Kate Clanchy]

Oh summer.

Please just wait for it to load. I really have no idea how this happened, but I think I like it. Potentially NSFW, even though it involves my little sister.

More peaceful than yesterday’s rant, yes?

I was wondering the back streets of Astoria and happened to look up and it felt like someone had left their shoes in first position, just so, just for me.

One of my favorite photos I’ve taken in recent memory. The tree was quite crisp in real life, I assure you, but I love how the focus makes it looks like it’s decomposing at the edges, melting downwards and fading away.