December 2011
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i do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. i love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. i love you...
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“listen, there’s a hell of a good universe next door: let’s go.” [e. e. cumming]