... Does anybody know the way back to the frangipani trees? 5. Their egg-yellow flower centers & velvetpinkwhiteyellow petals burn incense to the fairy-godmothers of flowers and poetry & lead me by the nose; (convincing me nightly to leave the living room in search of their fragrant memories & subconscious moments). Roses open here at day-ends and breathe out their poemspells, blushing us with pleasure & drawing out (at last) little hideaway smiles at ourselves from our petrified dream faces. Even the day-butterflies fly at night here; fluttering in my hair and tickling the air around my flickering eyes. from 'Night-life' in I sleep, I dream
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July 2020
Fiction is the lie that tells the truth ... (Neil Gaiman) Categories |