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archives Wednesday, April 06, 2005 "As birds announce the birth of a new day in song And my dreams mingle with the first rays of the sun, Your scent lingers in my sheets, Prompting me to reach out for you. But when I do, my arms surround only air. I brush my fingers lightly across my own face-- A sensual touch which instantly conjures you up. I maintain this specter of you for quite a while By remaining in that fanciful land Between sleep and wakefulness, Transversing that rare terrain Where memory and reality interlock. But then my vision is confiscated from me When I stumble over the border Into this more mundane place Where timelessness Is banished By clocks." --Garcia Lorca The Morning After posted by LNR 6:45 AM "Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your breath places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, a branchless trunk, and what I most regret is having no flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my despair. If you are my hidden treasure, if you are my cross, my dampened pain, if I am a dog, and you alone my master, never let me lose what I have gained, and adorn the branches of your river with leaves of my estranged Autumn." --Garcia Lorca Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint posted by LNR 6:45 AM " (Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.)" --Garcia Lorca Ditty of First Desire posted by LNR 6:43 AM |
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