“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label net. Show all posts
Showing posts with label net. Show all posts
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Seine
Nets needed their holes
as much as the lines, holed in
meaning, bold definition.
Image credited By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Justice
It is only with calloused hands that the heavy body can claw and leverage the self upward on the thorny vine of a life without wince and whi...
-
Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
-
Family members, Party members, Americans and American'ts: There will be no favors! Some were lovable, some detestable at b...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
