beyond the grave
Proust writes like he's stoned
but able to share the high
with readers unborn
but able to share the high
with readers unborn
Labels: literature, mortality, proust, time
posted by levinebar at 11:48 AM
seventeen syllables / is all you can cram into / such a tiny screen
Labels: literature, mortality, proust, time
posted by levinebar at 11:48 AM
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