A dove who walks into walls,
Before the hill--looking at it from a kitchen chair, "I don't care how big he is!"
And then behind the hill
--looking at it from a kitchen chair.
The woods in the wind,
Like the sleeping belly of an old leopard, swells.
Everybody is asleep.
"You are a soft velvet button on the sofa--he is snoring."
The same dim
Raises the dusted fingerprints wear of the road on ahead.
A plaque swallows up the glass, in a capital O,
Til all of the hole sloping sun spots must fend for themselves, narrowing in a
The late shade tilts across the toothwhite pike,
Cold, and awestruck,
As if donning the worn, circling corner of a sleeve,
Pressed hushingly on a fizzing chalkboard.
Name That Trauma:: M.W. on a Skeleton Glider Picnic - In the late 1950s or early 1960s I watched a movie on television that scared the hell out of me. Help! Do you know what movie it was? It was about a jovial...
1 day ago