Could I but draw, I’d sketch you day and night.I’d capture your sweet cheek line as a peach,the…
I’m staring at the featherdying in my hand.Staring and praying.
Love has no time, nor room to dwell,no gentle caress to soothe the pain,gnawing at sinews, devouring…
What uninvited floodlapped against scrubbed walls and washedrooms and hallsa…
“There is no work of art without a subject,” said Ortega — and with him here I do not demur.
A summer possessed by spring
the day's length adds peculiar perception