The Rainwalkers (Denise Levertov Poem)
An old man whose black face shines golden-brown as wet pebbles under the streetlamp, is walking two mongrel dogs of ...
An old man whose black face shines golden-brown as wet pebbles under the streetlamp, is walking two mongrel dogs of ...
The tree of knowledge was the tree of reason. That's why the taste of it drove us from Eden. That ...
Green Snake, when I hung you round my neck and stroked your cold, pulsing throat as you hissed to me, ...
Long after you have swung back away from me I think you are still with me: you come in close ...
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