phantasmaquaria kyla "An obscure world, a shifting world, Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled, Or serpentine, or driving arrows, Or serene slidings, or March narrows. There slipping wave and shore are one, And weed and mud. No ray of sun, But glow to glow fades down the deep (As dream to unknown dream in sleep); Shaken translucency illumes The hyaline of drifting glooms; The strange soft-handed depth subdues Drowned colour there, but black to hues, As death to living, decomposes— Red darkness of the heart of roses, Blue brilliant from dead starless skies, And gold that lies behind the eyes, The unknown unnameable sightless white That is the essential flame of night, Lustreless purple, hooded green, The myriad hues that lie between Darkness and darkness!..." 040913 ... raze "and all's one. gentle, embracing, quiet, dun, the world he rests in, world he knows, perpetual curving. only grows an eddy in that ordered falling, a knowledge from the gloom, a calling weed in the wave, gleam in the mud — the dark fire leaps along his blood; dateless and deathless, blind and still, the intricate impulse works its will; his woven world drops back; and he, sans providence, sans memory, unconscious and directly driven, fades to some dank sufficient heaven." — rupert brooke 211108 what's it to you? who go blather from