Reflection Turn up anon, and scrutinize daintily my countenance with your kohl e…
Cherubic lady I know thee not, oh, cherubic lady, how ethereal you are in an u…
ODE TO THE POET WHO HAD ROOTS IN KASHMIR In my own time of unconsolability, disco…
Blue butterfly In some of the tribes reckoned it is, the blue butterfly; a mark o…
Forgiveness All from nescience, our bed of roses cascades; overlong simpers on li…
UNTITLED YOU You are nay the elan-vital of my torso, you are something esoteric,…
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