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.
In the unholy terror of this distance (how cruel the gods!) – yet still I can reach your trembling body, your sweat libating the sheets, your limbs straining against the leather straps – and the muffled noise of your distress floats past my ears like a sad, half-heard wail. In the distance, the pounding of the ocean, fists against a pillowed surface, your entire being encompassed in the echo of the conch
that I clasp to my ear, that I caress like a lover's body. The sea always echoes in a rush of blood. I can almost touch you, past these waves. I would be dead not to hear the rushing of the sea.
