Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime, To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
I've never been prepared for anything in my life. So everything is a surprise....
All poems not attributed to any author are my own and have been copywritten, displayed here and then the original burned in an homage to unrepentant romanticists everywhere.