15 October 2008
Vol. 8, No. 3
You croon like Johnny, and you look like June.
To hear your thrilling trill, to take my stress
for one more song, shy son, I'll trade the moon,
your husky voice is best, I do confess.
8 July 2008
Vol. 8, No. 2
Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman.