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Tag Archives: because I could not stop for death
Oh death, where is your sting? – I Corinthians 15:55 And death I think is no parenthesis – E.E. Cummings .. We dress it in black. Night. Un -known. We give it a scythe, a sickle, the fickle heart of … Continue reading
, ghost me a whisper-dawn, scar-curled meltmoon setting in her shimmercloud sway. shadow me a sonnet-grin, an open jar of sparks, spilling bubble-breeze. this rose has thorns. (cue tattered leaves, green, twisted in melted breath.) my friend, fool death. skip … Continue reading