This Is The Way I've Always Thought

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

By Turns The Nine Delight To Sing

Once You Go Vatican, You Never Go Back Again.

Not At All Similar Are The Race Of The Immortal Gods And The Race Of Men Who Walk Upon The Earth.

Sweet Sleep Fell Upon His Eyelids, Unwakeful, Most Pleasant, The Nearest Like Death.