Louis le Brocquy - Lorca may butterflies rise from yr grave every year.. by Rob Plath a soldier pumped two bullets into yr buttocks for...

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your b...

Song of the Barren Orange Tree Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of seeing myself without fruit. Why was I...