Propped upon a chaise so faint,so pale with antique grief,that even angels hesitateto touch its fragile leaf. Her lungs—two trembling reliquaries—spill hymns in crimson lace;each…
Poet and Novelist
Propped upon a chaise so faint,so pale with antique grief,that even angels hesitateto touch its fragile leaf. Her lungs—two trembling reliquaries—spill hymns in crimson lace;each…
It lies across her trembling palm, a shroud in miniature— white linen steeped in whispered harm that dares not speak too pure. The lace, in looping filigree, still dreams…
She holds it like a chastened bloom pressed flat by winter’s heavy palm— a slip of lace, a breath of loom, a quiet relic asking calm. Yet through…
The room is dim, the air is thin,her breath a fleeting trace;her weary eyes half-close againagainst the lamplight’s face. Her pulse drifts faint along her…
Lay bare this linen, pale as frost laid gently over nameless dead— a shroudlet for the breath I’ve lost, a pall for words I’ve left unsaid. Its lace,…
Her ribs, like harp-strings, faint and frail,Attuned to sorrow’s trembling scale,Each breath a quiver—thin, austere—That draws its music from the mereSoft rustling of her dwindling…
From chambers dim with fading lightWhere shadows braid with grace,I lift my gaze against the nightAnd meet it face to face. For though my limbs…
There once was a valleyWhere horses ran freeThe province of flowersAnd monkeys and bees Well, all but the monkeysI only said thatTo fill up the…
I rise before the louder dayHas learned to clear its throat,While dawn still keeps a modest lightAnd time walks soft of foot. The kettle knows…
O language born where wards and ledgers breathe,In lamp-lit rooms of care and measured dread,Thy symbols whisper cures we half believe,While time itself obeys the…