The truest parts are the made up parts. E. H.
Someone begot someone….
Pick a pack of peppered Pound; let St. Joyce a lullaby sing.The one a long…
Hearing the cuckoo’s cry… Lorca
Words play on a page,forever ineffable,singing that deep song.
Your tiny slipperstread the dusklike satin cat pawsleaving only faintfootsteps of longing.