Portrait Number Five: Against A New York Summer (Jack Gilbert Poem)
I'd walk her home after work buying roses and talking of Bechsteins. She was full of soul. Her small room ...
I'd walk her home after work buying roses and talking of Bechsteins. She was full of soul. Her small room ...
We find out the heart only by dismantling what the heart knows. By redefining the morning, we find a morning ...
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say, God, ...
Love is apart from all things. Desire and excitement are nothing beside it. It is not the body that finds ...
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