29 April 2011
28 April 2011
27 April 2011
25 April 2011
1570
This thought is clothed in its address,
That minds the light with darted hand,
And breathes the night air too:
And too this dress is thought,
Though breathless and unlimbed.
What is the mind in its own place,
That makes without within?
What calamity of memory is its obverse
In meet wonder?
To make a heaven of a hell
Small business
Wants this mirror that sees itself.
24 April 2011
22 April 2011
21 April 2011
20 April 2011
18 April 2011
17 April 2011
16 April 2011
15 April 2011
1561
Perfumed we pace across
The space of an object palace.
Well-spoken tokens of invitation,
And vials of scent,
Open what's illusion to elusive:
As a symbol in a glass
Signifies the signified merely;
Unlike interiors, in action reified,
Accreted in an I.
A work-related smile
Meets my conspiring nod,
We ligatured by a protocol
To the objects even, remembered placed about.
14 April 2011
12 April 2011
11 April 2011
10 April 2011
09 April 2011
07 April 2011
05 April 2011
04 April 2011
03 April 2011
02 April 2011
01 April 2011
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