Come Into The Garden...
I keep my quill concealed in my boot, just as villains do their daggers
8 September 2011
...A poem unfurled from you
Like a loose frond of hair from your nape
To be clipped and kept in a book. What would stern
Dour Emily have made of your frisky glances
And your huge hope?
, Ted Hughes
...The one upright
Among all horizontals.
, Sylvia Plath
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath
, John Keats
8 September 2011 at 15:18
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