Camelot |
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Thee grey of Eyre, a lavish bower, the stoop in bloom, the crocus flower, my heart unyielded turns its head, and marigolds shall prosper.
Three sets of tides, three anchors deep, the steadfast curse, an andromeda reaped; the vales of time, not now withstanding, the veiled youth in scaffolds standing.
Emily Isaacson |
Titan |
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The daffodil garret, steep in evening’s light, a shadow to the monarch deep in thought.
With each new pool unentered, each new character uncasted, the witch, dispelled from spell to spell, in Kingdoms to thine own.
An homage now to youth, that cannot check its days, and rides a furious wind like horse and chariot.
Emily Isaacson |
The Door |
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Miracle, you speak to the earth and it will brush the finery of Autumn with such grants of time.
The moments seep under the worlds.
Euthendom, where witness tables movement, and the helichrysum drips innert.
Emily Isaacson |
The Daughter's Vice |
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The verse was rhymed, and solstice mount, a church.
The hymn of variegation, flow’r by flow’r, the timbrel’s tune a medium to the stains.
The boldened panes refract your machlis' destined furor, I, in the ripened note, shall play.
Emily Isaacson |