Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue.
Portrait The world spreads out on either side no farther than the heart is wide.
The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
They address an Eclipse every morning, whom they call their "Father."
Some keep the Sabbath going to church, I keep it staying at home, with a bobolink for a chorister, and an orchard for a dome.
Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.