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Arcadian (Remove filter)

fingers on the paper (here, a long poem will die)

i got you wrong just like a half-existing woman, you scared the evening, istanbul was ratting that time (whatever it is) "so wittgenstein said..." you had fingers. they're tiny cigarettes. ...

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Three Nocturnes

 

Three Nocturnes

 

While poring over dusty corners of an ancient night

I sang in darken'd evening flight, a voice edged

by the pain of doubt, a tempered blade to fight

an inner shout; the fearful dredge

of insomnia, the purgatory of my silent gaze;

remembrance too of sultry Australian dog days.

 

South-West karris loom ink-black, and rustle

as night-walkers, stepp...

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