These States
If words had but one meaning, I would have died long ago and found no rest. Instead, I wept a while, and when it passed, I found this, my gravestone in the grass. It is a dictionary. And my name is filed neatly in the back, beneath Weights and Pleasures. These States Winter one day, fall the next, sparrows in beds of leaves, birch-bright colors float in cold stone […]
William Michaelian 