A Girl
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.Ezra Pound
(via avanelle)
text posted 3 months ago with 30 notes
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sharkchunks said:
I hate when trees grow in my breast, very painful. Like this guy- huffingtonpost.com/2009…
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