All WoundsAll WoundsAll Wounds
Time heals only
When scab picking ceases. But crusting conceives The fervid itch That wills me to scratch. And chronic scraping reopens Scrapes that would scar, if, &nbs
There Are Things UnderThere Are Things Under the HouseThere Are Things Under
As I lay in bed, I hear the vent, Stirring, The metal twists and rattles, Clanks and patters Like creatures at play, Or mischief.
After the dogs stop wailing, Crickets creak in the stillness, And nocturnal beasts rise, Intruders on my hibernate peace.
Incessant clicks and knocks Unnerve me as I wait Perched, on the edge of the bed, Peeking cautiously at the grate, Looking for the ugly thing that Rails against the void of sound, Listening at the groans and moans &nbs
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Any great work of art ... revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world—
--Leonard Bernstein
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Any great work of art ... revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world—
--Leonard Bernstein
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Shake your lasagna!
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