Shire Horses

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Desktop (no 999)

Encapsulated

Rendezvous

Snowblind

Out of Context

Unfinished Wonderland 2

Wonderland

She saw the spirit.
They injected her, they held her down.
She recalled the glossy red shoes of her childhood.
Magic shoes that would carry her wherever she wanted to go.

La Fin

 

 

This is the Dénouement: the final scene, we capitulate
Paralysed, circumcised by self annihilation. Our sky is starless.
At this moment it is merely desolate,
We are but cautionary tales, standing before a precipice
There are no fundamentals to rely upon anymore
For us anything will do. Pale faces brown. A Queen is crowned.
The patron saint of the damned is advancing, breaching borders
Her empire has tripled in size, its interior honeyed with holiness
Surplus sailors, veterans wasting away to bone
Sucked into the swamp. There will be no revival
They leave, devoid of prospect. We hear their long lament

And we who choose to stay behind
With the calamitous cacophony of the tide
The ocean roars in a foreign language
Dissolving into salt water, we finally yield