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Many journalists, and not many friends

Around the encumbered tomb

Around the brilliant panoply

Beneath the dreadful moon

Many shattered bulbs, and men

Attend sepulchral cues

And when sepulchral rings the wind

The scattered glass will move

The motorcade and all its kin

Away from nascent mound

Will glide along like rivers

Like the dew upon the ground

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He moved across the forest They moved across the forest It moved across the forest moved across the forest elephantly. across the forest under the autumn star the azure trees the fruit of rippling way

that beauty shadows on the grass moon; hand; dance come alive, remember you, remembered reborn, we cannot sleep dreams have no answer but deep, close to the heart they say be seen, dream with one anot

The sun someday will be love again. The mountain someday will be sand. The land in the end will begin again, and flowers grow out of its hand. I remembered an ancient poem, held under the tongue of a

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