born to fly backwards

not young, solitary

a decay in energy

Rousseau forbade

irregular pleasures

the brethren simply

neither knew nor cared

the green swallowed

bold carnation and black tresses


denizens of Babylon

of one mind

arrogance of potpourri

her high bed

long, long

unfixed, uncertain

in a cold fog

serene and sensible

no rebellion, no repining

my lamb

in Bristol

for a little while, no history