"-- and the incandescence of your skin
crackles like the paper at the tip
of a drawn-on cigarette and dies
in a final fluttering of ash--"
-Craig Arnold

Poetry Prose Junk

Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this, throw the raft away.
— Jack Kerouac (via thenovelapproach)
Posted August 9, 2012 with 17 notes VIA Origin
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