danse macabre 19
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But you can find the latest issue of your favorite online literary magazine. DM at Poets and Writers.
No self-respecting literary magazine, esp. one celebrating its 20th gala issue, should be without immortal music.
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8230;From the town where I was born,. Has driven my destiny,. The town which I have lost,. My glance is greeting me in my dreams. Vom Dorf, drin ich geboren,. Trieb weit mich das Geschick,. Das Dorf, das ich verloren,. Grüßt jetzt im Traum mein Blick. Ripped from the safety of earth. Aunched at warp speed into deep space, I brace myself against the thrust. The conversation in the control room, already fragmented into squeals and clicks by static, is consumed by the raging roar of rocket engines. 8220; H-.CONTENT
This web page thedansemacabre19.blogspot.com states the following, "8230;From the town where I was born,." We saw that the webpage said " Has driven my destiny,." It also said " The town which I have lost,. My glance is greeting me in my dreams. Vom Dorf, drin ich geboren,. Trieb weit mich das Geschick,. Das Dorf, das ich verloren,. Grüßt jetzt im Traum mein Blick. Ripped from the safety of earth. Aunched at warp speed into deep space, I brace myself against the thrust. The conversation in the control room, already fragmented into squeals and clicks by static, is consumed by the raging roar of rocket engines."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
An online journal of imaginative verse and prose dedicated to the magical, the ethereal, the supernatural, the dark, the absurd, and the unknown. Tuesday, October 31, 2006. Sunday, February 26, 2006. Late in the year, farmers weave haystacks tight;. Then when a globe moon drifts up seas of night,. No one of menace speaks,.
No self-respecting literary magazine, esp. one celebrating its 20th gala issue, should be without immortal music.
Sunday, December 17, 2006. Chocolate marshmallow and Nut candy. of milk and dark chocolate, 1 lb. Friday, December 8, 2006.
Torch songs of indigo fire;. When a Sabbath breeze fingers your cheeks,. Otis Redding rings even deeper. Inside the satin holes pocking. The thought of another pubescent staircase. Knocking fall snow off my shoes. I skid across the marble floor. The gym- -concert hall tonight- -. Smells like it did forty years ago. Once we were many,.
She sways, trancelike,. Aroung the crowded palace floor. Despite age, her hips move easily. Through steps well-practiced down her years. Waltzing in a moonglow satin gown. Her broadness compounds joy,. Toward the ancient frescoed ceiling. She loses herself in the lilting beat. Delights her feet with the feel of the floor,. The spring of velvet slippers against silk. The orchestra, catches her whim,.