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
1569
22 April 2011
1568
21 April 2011
1567
20 April 2011
1566
18 April 2011
1565
17 April 2011
1564
16 April 2011
1563
15 April 2011
1562
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.