(Source: laugarciag)
“
…And the rooftops are falling apart like the applause
of rough, long-nailed, intimate, roughened-by-kisses, hands.
fingers more breathless than a tongue laid on the lips
in the hour of sunlight, early morning, before the mist rolls
in from the sea; and out there everything is turbulent and green.
— Frank O’Hara— Aus einem April (excerpt)
(Source: fl-ashfl-ash)
