I’m full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry.
Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro (via riimbaud)

Smoke Ring - 1,000 feet wide, after demo shot, Al Anbar Province, Iraq (2005)

i find that writing is like metalwork in an abstract kind of way. you have to let things cool for a bit, then heat them up again and work at them to make them stronger and work out the kinks. good poetry is like a sword; razor-sharp, graceful through the air, with a point that cuts deep.

It is allowed to invent new verbs?
I want to create one for you: I sky you, so that my wings may stretch out enormously, to love you without boundaries.