The Unuttered Poetry of Rose
Is there a consummation lit by awe reserved for me? Oh, when will I go up – up flames like steps of stone – I who never told my banal… Read more The Unuttered Poetry of Rose →
Small Things
It will be a small thing should such an one as I no more than live, achieving only that I place a foot before another foot; a thought before a… Read more Small Things →
Slow Literature 