Jun 08 2008
∞
“ All those dead poets stressed about god and goblins and getting laid should have been born later, into cell phones and science. Send a few flirting text-messages—not even a stanza’s-worth—and if you have any game you can meet up at a bar and get your circles moved. Not to mention the universes-worth of imperishable bliss inside every plum.
— i really like this post at f train. i think its the dreams. and this poem about plums.
