"I [will] plant my syllables in light.
Let them multiply there."
Reset, Elaine Equi
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Bronze Tongue, Tuned Lip, Decorative Belts on the Skirt
Blog Archive
-
▼
2008
(94)
-
▼
January
(20)
- Not a Still Life
- Gorgonize
- "It is no longer a question of balance and yet
- The Magic of Place
- Still Reaching
- "An immense stillness everywhere
- Rater's Anxiety
- Circumbendibus
- Life is a Cabaret
- "Clay tablets wail:
- No Rhyme or Reason
- Melancholia=Muse?
- Art(sy) for Art's Sake
- Finding your Inner Fish
- The Poetry of Outlandish Guesses
- Diego, I hardly knew you
- New Year's Resolution 3
- New Year's Resolution 2
- New Year's Resolution 1
- "A Hunger" for endnotes
-
▼
January
(20)
About Me
Much Ado About Nothing
Don Pedro
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
Beatrice
No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
No comments:
Post a Comment