Compare the silent rose of the sun and rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, with this paper, this dust.
That states the point.

With only the flimsiest of pretext I offer a Saturday afternoon selection from one of my favorite poets. I do this for my enjoyment as much as your own. See below for poetry or quail and click away with a marksman-clean scoff. What do I care?

07.08. filed under: !. books.

return to the front page