The Past Is Not A Package One

A Shady Friend For Torrid Days Is Easier To Find Than One Of Higher Temperature For Frigid Hour Of Mind.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.

It Sounded As If The Streets Were Running, And Then The Streets Stood Still.

She Dealt Her Pretty Words Like Blades -- How Glittering They Shone -- And Every One Unbared A Nerve Or Wantoned With A Bone -- She Never Deemed -- She Hurt -- That -- Is Not Steel's Affair -- A Vulgar Grimace In The Flesh -- How Ill The Creatures Bear -- To Ache Is Human -- Not Polite -- The Film Upon The Eye Mortality's Old Custom -- Just Locking Up -- To Die.

To Be Alive──is Power.