WREATH OF SONNETS (Vlanes Poems)
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
Desine, Paulle, meum lacrimis urgere sepulcrum: nempe tuas lacrimas litora surda bibent. Propertius, IV.11 Don't cry for me, for only ...
for every wind?'s emotionless blast brings shreds of feathers with their dance of loss rotating leaves of faded rainbow-trees and ...
Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough of dark becoming where it cannot be. So much both for the soil ...
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