Not yet will those measureless fields be green again Where only yesterday the wild sweet blood of wonderful youth was shed; There is a grave whose earth must hold too long, too deep a stain,

Pure as the expanse of Heaven; I thither wentWith unexperienced thought, and laid me downOn the green bank, to look into the clearSmooth lake, th

Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,

unerring

as a rebel fronts a king in state

am in reality more illiterate than many school-boys of fifteen.

ut, supposing all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all mankind to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.

satiate

power which attracts the needle.d-undefined, .lh-undefined { background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) !important; }.d-undefined, .lh-undefined { background-color: rgba(20, 20, 19, 0.5) !important; }1Nicole Herbots

hitherto

Like Elijah

of my skin casual next to someone else’s skin

proclivities

Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:

Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, But with a piteous and perpetual moan, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.

catch’d

the Gunpowder Treason

Countless overwrought housewives, Minds unraveling like threads, Try lipstick shades to tranquilize Fears of age and general dreads.

like language, like color, like air.

cerulean

Then one of the stumbling ones took pity on another

Once the world was perfect, and we were happy in that world. Then we took it for granted.

Doubt ruptured the web, All manner of demon thoughts Jumped through

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory,

like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

And if you have managed to graduate from college without ever having written “Man vs. Nature” in a margin, perhaps now is the time to take one step forward.

he poem about the seafaring hero, bound into a larger volume of monster-tales and marvels, smoked as if from dragon-fire,

charter

Ashburnham

His caseworker was one of those people who say the word “escapism” as if it’s a moral failing, a regrettable hobby, a mental-health diagnosis. As if escape is not, in itself, one of the highest order of magics they’ll ever see in their miserable mortal lives, right up there with true love and prophetic dreams and fireflies blinking in synchrony on a June evening.

Other patrons were forced to double-back in the aisle, shooting suspicious, you-don’t-belong-here looks behind them as if wondering what a skinny black teenager was really up to while pretending to read a fantasy book.