Month: December 2022

It speaks, round hour of early black; miles of coruscating green, of subconscious, and grows …

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Had I but enough sense; would follow the light, hold hands   and meander into fields …

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The difficult route, always; Plato wished to banish poets from his republic because they could …

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Roses from snow hold on to light of the sun, as orchestra of bold birds …

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He is a cinnamon peeler; unrivaled, for this reason I am swept away— why? I …

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