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 ...
Troubled slumbering of things, the curtain blown aside by the gush of the salty wind, the advent of the tide ...
Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough of dark becoming where it cannot be. So much both for the soil ...
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