Circe in the Night (NAPOWRIMO 2015 #22)
She brought me port; like that of her smell, tilting temptress of tequila, bitter refuge of the lost. One drink to forget, one to remember, and one witch – o helenistic goddess –… Continue reading
She brought me port; like that of her smell, tilting temptress of tequila, bitter refuge of the lost. One drink to forget, one to remember, and one witch – o helenistic goddess –… Continue reading
When I die, my epitaph will not read an obscure line from Shelley or a haiku transcribed in syllabicated verse; No — fancy rhythm or rhyme is for no poor man, and my life… Continue reading