søndag 18. august 2013

Where is he gone, brilliant, ringing being ? Surely the poor sense him and await him: young, rejoicing --- distant as they are ? does he not rise into their twilight air, poverty's great evening star ?


I live my life in 
widening rings...

As bright with metallic 
strike,
the hour...


Ingen kommentarer:

Legg inn en kommentar