Beauty is momentary in the mind - The fitful tracing of a portal; But in the flesh it is immortal. The body dies; the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing. So gardens die, their meek breath scenting The cowl of winter, done repenting. So maidens die, to the auroral Celebration of a maiden's choral.

Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings Of those white elders; but, escaping, Left only Death's ironic scraping. Now, in its immortality, it plays On the cle…

A breath upon her hand Muted the night. She turned - A cymbal crashed, Amid roaring horns.

After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends. No was the night. Yes is this present sun.

... after you're dead and buried and floating around whatever place we go to, what's going to be your best memory of Earth ? ... What moment for you defines wh…

Finis vitae sed non amoris

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, …