Harlequin Rose

Biography of Harlequin Rose

..there is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession..

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Fiction

Were I but lost in feather-light fiction
with captions beneath my feet
Still, up on the hill, dear Phaon and Sappho
hold hands and take to the sea.

With wounded wings and copper chipped teeth
I take on the melody's form
for were I but lost in feather-light fiction
at least you, my love, would keep me warm.