The array of autumn’s showWould be stranded in perfection;The mirror of trust hangs belowWithout its desired reflection. What’s next, I wonder, In the hearth of lustful wake?Amidst a struggle of pine-thrush plunderNeedles descend into the lake. And how should our love moveIn the daylight’s dawning croon?We fall with the weather, too—In the abandon of theContinue reading “Fallen Revelation”
The Saccharine Sycophant 