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 ...
I. You liked your scrolls ? - Here they are. The manuscript of your book ? - Here it is. ...
Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough of dark becoming where it cannot be. So much both for the soil ...
Somewhere, suspended in facetless space, the vine is spiralling, shown in the distance, with loosened hair: the farther the eye ...
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