1027 0 0
|
wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night. waning,the moon peers down at melike the heavy-lidded eye of some cyclops. and if I be lost like poor Odysseus,cloak me in the soft, warm wool of night. and if my eyes fail me like old Tiresias,stitch the cloth with…
|
102844
|
He'd sit or stand, as if this was common
to see: in the street walking by, such a man.
|
97754
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
5232
|
The moon, a blonde eye,comes forward, smiles once. She backs away, shy.
|
