Sketch: Volume 31, Issue 1
He, Begun with childhood wonder At sourceless light and sudden cold, And moving, guideless mind, Is blinded to cause by that same Light and cold and motion- but Coherent thought bring questions and questions And answers answers...
The bells, the bells-can you hear them? One by one they throw out the hours that died Without hope for resurrection Without lamentation Without pain...
I read a poem that almost made it. It told of love in almost perfect rhyme, And I read it to my almost love At the almost perfect time... And almost made her...