Knocking at the Threshold
Where threshold dreams its birth, its latter dust,a little blackbird on the lintel sate;with orange beak he smote the seasoned […]
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Poetry
Skybound Reason
Now, can you see—And where, I ask, does reason keep her place?Yet weep never more, for here such bounds are
My first Precatio spoken in many tongues
Before you enter the poem—whichever tongue you choose, or each in turn—I offer a brief confession. After two years and
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