Night without end. My heart clings
to the lower tip of the crescent moon.
In bleeding calculation
I evaluate the price.
Vast -- in its passion ratio
to that of my withering body!
November 2009 Issue of Word Catalyst
NeverEnding Story: Call for "Biting NOT Barking" Poetry Submissions
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My Dear Fellow Poets:
All art has its share in truth insofar as it serves as a *transcript of
human suffering.*
-- Theodor Adorno
What Theodor Adorno adm...
