“I love incorrectly There is a solemnity in hands, the way a palm will curve in accordance to a contour of skin, the way it will release a story. This should be the pilgrimage. The touching of a source. This… — Carl Adamshick Copy Share
“I love incorrectly There is a solemnity in hands, the way a palm will curve in accordance to a contour of skin, the way it will release a story. This should be the pilgrimage. The touching of a source. This is what sanctifies. This pleading. This mercy. I want to be a pilgrim to everyone, close to the inaccuracies, the… — Carl Adamshick Copy Share
“Oblivion and significance/brush our bones, leave us weeping for strangers.” — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
“The sadness isn’t their sadness. The sadness is the way they will never unpack the rucksack of happiness again. They’ll never surface as divers… — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
“There are days when I wake/ and find my face is a hole/ and I have nowhere to hang my mask.” — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
