Not God With Wine, Nor Death, Nor

Fall The Deep Curtains, Delicate The Weave, Fair The Thread.

I Will Be Free, No Lover's Kiss To Bind Me To Earth, No Bliss Of Love To Counteract Actual Bliss.

I Myself Have Seen The Floating Ships And Nothing Will Ever Be The Same The Shouts, The Harrowing Voices Within The House. I Stand Apart With An Army: My Mind Is Graven With Ships.

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

You Will Not See That Desire Begets Love, Until It All Flames Into One Concise And Metallic Blaze.