Allan Ginsberg

Or I perish of lonesomeness or want of food or

A Desolaltion

Now mind is clear as a cloudless sky. Time then to make a home in wilderness.

lightning or the bear (must tame the hart and wear the bear).

And maybe make an image What have I done but wander with my eyes in the trees? So I will build: wife, family, and seek for neighbors. of my wandering, a little image shrine by the roadside to signify to traveler that I live here in the wilderness awake and at home.

Frozen (Very Cold) by Stanley Donwood

Everything was normal and as it should be until one day I woke up and there was something wrong. I didn't know what it was, but it was a kind of persistent thing that I couldn't quite ignore. Something was cold and it was inside, not outside. It was like a place where someone had poked me with an icicle. A splinter of winter. The days passed like they do and I just got colder. The cold spread until I was like a sculpture of ice. I didn't sneeze any more, and I couldn't cry and if I tried to come it was like a tendril of porcelain. I was a solid man. You could throw rocks at me and it didn't hurt at all. I just splintered a little. Perhaps fortunately, no-one noticed and everything carried on being normal and as it should be, all around me. But I was frozen.

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