Sunday, August 19, 2007
Cellar Door Comments
Rating: ★5.0
Before I grow tired and die,
Like a sickly infant before it knows this language,
I want to look up and see the world metamorphosed
Into a single thing, a word spoken in a whisper,
...
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4/4/2026 10:05:47 PM # 1.0.0
I love your imagery. This poem makes me think a lot and intrigues me to your life very much.10