

Reply -The Arrogance of a PoetI was a poet - - but at my funeral none so much as uttered, with clandestine intone and spare mascara burn, a single note of my immortal promise.Reply -The Arrogance of a Poet
I was a poet - - yet as I burned my most sullen art, rising in smoke columns and blistered camphor wood, gave no such refuge to the man I had made.
I was a poet, yes - - but as dry clay is offered with muffled god-words, my bones swept hither into the mouth of my urn, my words are no more than debt unpaid.


Styska Se Mi Po TobeThe sky's poor émigré wan, a crescent rock halved and parted by the filigree of frozen rainStyska Se Mi Po Tobe
I hold it dear and caught in the half light I cannot bear the pain of your absence.
The suicide of stars for one, maybe two beats of a ghost moths wing overfill my cup with distance and its supposed romance
I let go, though tumbling down stream like so many rocks and leaves.
The golden syllable of morning comes, a seed on fire sewing reve
Thank you very much for the
Have a wonderful holiday season,
~KsenKAT
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sry for my english
SasuNaru~NejiTenTen~GaaraSaku~KakaIru~TemaShika
~SasuNaruXKakaIru Club Member
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