 |
| Will Petersen |
She's radiant all right, mouth a dangling
lark and is mine-nuncupatively!-
until it isn't God! I hope not
For according to me, the petals-i.e. the
white ones-took the eye and
did it again, and then leaving me with one,
just might want to fly:-
the love of one who burns pure as sky
( "foreshown & foretold")
