The House Of Dust: Part 01: 06: Over the darkened city, the city of towers (Conrad Aiken Poem)
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the ...
Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the ...
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light. The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
In early morning twilight, raw and chill, Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, Through miles of mire in steady ...
Down on the shore, on the sunny shore! Where the salt smell cheers the land; Where the tide moves bright ...
When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold itself but pours its abundance without selection into every nook ...
1) An individual spider web identifies a species: an order of instinct prevails through all accidents of circumstance, though possibility ...
Far from the Rappahannock, the silent Danube moves along toward the sea. The brown and green Nile rolls slowly Like ...
A precise woman with a short haircut brings order to my thoughts and my dresser drawers, moves feelings around like ...
A region desolate and wild. Black, chafing water: and afloat, And lonely as a truant child In a waste wood, ...
The rest of us watch from beyond the fence as the woman moves with her jagged stride into her pain ...
The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your ...
O WHA will to Saint Stephen's House, To do our errands there, man? O wha will to Saint Stephen's House ...
The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move ...
The cypress stood up like a church That night we felt our love would hold, And saintly moonlight seemed to ...
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los: And every space that a man views around ...
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los: And every space that a man views around ...
The sun descending in the west. The evening star does shine. The birds are silent in their nest, And I ...
hooray say the roses, today is blamesday and we are red as blood. hooray say the roses, today is Wednesday ...
we have everything and we have nothing and some men do it in churches and some men do it by ...
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking smoking typing it was a most splendid miraculous time still ...
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