/lit/ - Literature

A toad the power mower caught,
Chewed and clipped of a leg, with a hobbling hop has got
To the garden verge, and sanctuaried him
Under the cineraria leaves, in the shade
Of the ashen and heartshaped leaves, in a dim,
Low, and a final glade.

The rare original heartsblood goes,
Spends in the earthen hide, in the folds and wizenings, flows
In the gutters of the banked and staring eyes. He lies
As still as if he would return to stone,
And soundlessly attending, dies
Toward some deep monotone,

Toward misted and ebullient seas
And cooling shores, toward lost Amphibia's emperies.
Day dwindles, drowning and at length is gone
In the wide and antique eyes, which still appear
To watch, across the castrate lawn,
The haggard daylight steer.

Richard Wilbur - Death of a Toad

>>19835459
*camera pulls away*

>>16828796

>>16828685
>Point is, calling people incels or basement-dwellers isn't as compelling as one might think.

>>16759792
RC Waldun should hire us as his team of editors. We'll do it for free, as long as we get a free copy of the unedited and final product in the process

Faint sights of parties
I join, but no friends to meet
Gone, no words to speak

>>15989836
>got rejection email
I feel you

>>15963508