I will have enough if I keep to my three-a-day But what if Paris is just too big to fit neatly between the margins the boulevards so wide the bookshelves so crammed with volumes and volumes of artists and painters… Read More ›
Automatic Writing
Sun
What is the illusion banished by dawn? What is the night, what ethereal darkness, what fears, unsung jackdaws mocking eternal worry a private joke, khee khee khee, shrieking! And moon can only bathe and salve the bleed out, the daily… Read More ›