The Medici Chapel
Severity is this,
poetry
All Down the Morning
All down the morning, women sprinkled crumbs
The Pike
I take it he doesn't think at all,
The Four Fields
Now is the moment come under the morning
When, if the shrubs had blocked the sun
When, if the shrubs had blocked the sun,
Crescendo
My days with you are full of grandeur and repose
The Flesh of Waves
I am of rhythms. I am of rhythms, ripples,
Mozart
Only the cool sky over creation
With the Present of a T'ang Duck
With strongly curving neck, bill dug in back,
Suburbia
Surburban night. The windows lit,
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
