I
To think that I desired nothing more,
Than to kiss those lips which are now stone,
But parted in some false opening,
Which looks as though it may perhaps stir,
And offer a word or two to draw some from me,
Who is a thief. The footsteps of the statue fall
With the hammer blows of the death watch beetles,
Whose tick-tock is of life forgot,
Which was struck down when I sought the words
To make the unknown known, as though it were
A possession to be harbored or traded or kept,
Or some simple trinket that i...
Published on November 13, 2012 14:15