Within this narrow cell that I call “me”, I was imprisoned ere the worlds began, And all the worlds must run, as first they ran, In silver star-dust, ere I shall be free. I beat my hands against the walls and find It is my breast I beat, O bond and blind! – Lily A…. Continue reading →

The dining table has lost its glue My dining table is empty and blue Have I lost my touch with them I have lost my touch with them