I dreamt of loving. The dream remains, but love
is no longer those lilacs and roses whose breath
filled the broad woods, where the sail of a flame
lay at the end of each arrow-straight path.
Categories: Poetry
Tagged: Don Paterson, French, imagery, love poetry, nature, Robert Desnos, translation
The Black Art 0
A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
Categories: Poetry
Tagged: Anne Sexton, conversational, gender, magic, poems about poetry, social commentary