Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in…
It was not a special nightThe moon was as it had been — dull,Dull as the enchained nightsAnd…
You go over the lieschecking the tensile strengthof the words you got hit with
Poem
Ain’t the gods
The deluge, with its intensity and pressure, creeps about, hovering around his ears, nose, head,is…
Flame-tongued Summer lights our wayTo dusty death.
Raised up with the rhythmicInstincts of Mayfield, Marvin& P-Funk