Stanzas Standing Like Caryatids Without a Temple
I. There are no words left with which to fill the page. No decadently adorned mask to wear to hide the tears, just an empty green…
I. There are no words left with which to fill the page. No decadently adorned mask to wear to hide the tears, just an empty green…
I. Silence falls when Orpheus has lost his touch, his lyre stilled in the triumphant echo of stones immobilized by the invisible clock-hands of Fate moving…
Freedom is the bottle broken of spirits lying on the splintered hardwood floor of an artist’s studio in 1890s Montmartre, scented with lilies drenched in the…
This is how it begins: the summer breeze hemorrhages into an autumn gale, Time retracts its dispensation toward the sun, contracting the elongated hours spent traversing…