Nothing can cup my slipping heel but me.
Sentences are cultivated in action,
And mine can be spoken by none but me.
The moon meets a calf in the owing purple
By the light.
And I hear its' caustic chorus. Nothing--however
Could behave as I do when I am liberated.
Name That Trauma:: Alex M. on a Crying Baby and a Victorian Doll - Hi there, Terrific site. I was wondering if you could help me with a half-remembered TV-based trauma from my childhood. My brain’s telling me it was a scen...
14 hours ago