Status Updates From The Selected Poetry of Rain...

‘Yes—the springtimes needed you. Often a star was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past, or as you walked under an open window, a violin yielded itself into your hearing. All this was mission. But could you accomplish it? Weren’t you always distracted by expectation, as if every event announced a beloved?

"for Beauty's nothing
but the beginning of Terror we're still just able to bear"

donna tartt you are a fraud