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![]() Poetry ![]() Galatea Thetis Actaeon Knossos Agonistes Penelope Villanelle Other ![]() Contact About |
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![]() KnossosA wick of string in one pocket, a short Dagger in the other. It is noon on Crete, And the wind cannot blow, or if it will, Sighs through the interwoven limbs, tracing The course of the hedge in the way of a novice Lover, bending, turning, forced by its own Momentum around corners opposite to its Intentions. Reaching a wall, it dissipates Like hot breath into hair. Inside, perhaps In the center, perhaps stalking those who Entered first, the great beast rattles its horns. Twin shadows, oozing down from overhead, Are those of giant eagles with waxen wings. They laugh: the labyrinth is easy from above. ![]() |
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