harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
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, in august away i must spread my small metal wings away i must cast years and quiet my singing i mustn't sink to fear of opening my lungs to water in the bathtub and cast out i must not think of those tulips ribboning reeds under in august away i must my birthday is red red i must i must not call your name i must away and away and gone the blade you drew me away from gleaming colourful as the pencils and pens from the world away i must unfurl one metal wing and sing of it no longer
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