Old poems and older poems. The art in here is far more recent - all illustration tiles were made between April 20, 2024 and May 12, 2024.
Some of these poems were published in a chapbook, Eleusinian Mysteries, in 1995, under the pen name Sarah Maddo...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
O, you are too dangerous for me, no more slave to me than I am slave to my better nature. Your eyes take too much sparkle as they take pleasure from inflicting desire upon me. Your fingers are too ready to jump and be nimble for me; And your soul, your soul! A positive irony that you'd submit to me, and a positive impossibility. Insouciant, you lie on my bed of lusts calling me by my rightful titles – All the while thinking of painting the ceiling beige and comparing yourself to a slab of meat (you snob, it's probably filet mignon, too) I eat you without even punishing you though by now you certainly deserve it...
No. I know who the real master is, here, and I will not abide it. Do you hear me? Listen: you will be mine, even if it means fire and brimstone, the lash, and lycanthropy itself – whereby man is changed into dog. Even if it means that I must submit – horror of horrors! Did I say that? Alas, it is too late for me, I can see. Already I am writing you poetry.
