Weeds in the Garden Light
Water dripping down from the gutter to my nose.
Setting altimatums for myself.
Unique can be erotic.
And this garden is the foreigner's forest at midnight.
Weeds in the Garden Light
Water dripping down from the gutter to my nose.
Setting altimatums for myself.
Unique can be erotic.
And this garden is the foreigner's forest at midnight.
Poetry is what is lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
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