We are two gardens haunted by each other.
Sometimes I cannot find you there,
There is only the swing creaking, that you have just left,
Or your favourite book beside the sundial.
'Tis Evanoe's, A house not made with hands, But out somewhere beyond the worldly ways Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven; Strange ways and…
It seemed the kind of life we wanted. Wild strawberries and cream in the morning. Sunlight in every room. The two of us walking by the sea naked.…
Tonight, you are thinking of heroin, Of the boy who pulled you to his lips In a blue room and whispered heroin So close you could feel it on your…