November
A Chapbook
When all that’s dull is made dark, and all that’s rotten made rich, there can be no denying the shadow of every wish encloses a tighter circle. An order of synaesthetes could warm their shrivelled feet by opening their eyes on the odour of scorched wool— when all that’s dull is made dark, and all that’s hollowed made full.
This is well written poetry! Congrats
Looking forward to spending some time with these. I wish I owned a printer and could print out a “hard copy,” but am delighted to have the PDF. Thanks!