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Sing to me, Muse, of complicated men Take me down to the ground floor, Repossess my all-access pass
… Nothing, having arrived, will stay.The earth, even, is like a flower, so soonpasseth it away. And yet this nothingis the seed of all — the clearer eyeof heaven, where…
“Autumn”Again the windflakes gold-leaf from the treesand the painting darkens––as if a thousand penitentskissed an icontill it thinnedback to bare wood,without diminishment.-Jane Hirshfield On Saturday, Tom took Elle’s training wheels…