Untitled #12 (Nijole Miliauskaite Poems)
a cold evening, swollen painfulwillow budsmigrating birds areperched in the skeletonsof trees along the shore like greatblack blossomsa small reddish ...
a cold evening, swollen painfulwillow budsmigrating birds areperched in the skeletonsof trees along the shore like greatblack blossomsa small reddish ...
Ever heard th' black watch story?Ask th' boys o' our old crew;There's sea yarns a sight more gory, But there ...
In those days the oatfields' fenced-in vats of running platinum, the yellower alloy of wheat and barley, whose end, however ...
The Spirit's fire burning inside of me offering light, warmth, and heat to everyone I meet Changing my path the ...
Would that we would see all the world, to the ends of the earth Set ablaze by the seeds of ...
My brother comes home from work and climbs the stairs to our room. I can hear the bed groan and ...
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