I sit on the ridge at dusk, as the light leaves the valley by rising. Trees, fingers clutch at it, vaguely sifting the light and dying. So bleed sarcophagi romantically-- re-bleed with dignifying re-constructive make-up.
I sit on the ridge at dusk, as the light leaves the valley by rising. Trees, fingers clutch at it, vaguely sifting the light and dying. So bleed sarcophagi romantically-- re-bleed with dignifying re-constructive make-up.