Tag lives_of_the_poets
space I spent years in booze’s blackest forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading U... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com
That is not a corner of heaven I will quest again, he mutters, dotting the last line on parchment. The drum by which he wrote it was steady as always—the heaving sea, the flapping sails, the hours worrying a … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com
The Lord survives the rainbow of His will. — Robert Lowell These days the end comes quickly down by the long suck of the sea, the cold grey combers approaching across the Channel’s maw or beneath from grey … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com
space I spent years in booze’s black forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com