In the ruins of the earth twelve hundred saints are biding their time—taking alms from the smoke of gray dawns. The tarantula eats the
I am writing this card, as I feel I must, to tell you how sorry I am that your mother has died.
Guitar slide of the patella Scores the harmony of a monk At the prie dieu. Kneeling As the sword anoints a lord. The I.R.A.’s
And when the girl asks her why that man set himself on fire, how is she to respond except as any mother hemorrhaged by