What am I doing here?I’m not even sure I belongMy reasons don’t seem clearBut sure, I’ll

We smiled at each otherBeneath the shade of the tree on the knoll.The breeze hummed hollowly

John Carter of Mars returns this summer, not surprising if you give it some thought. The

Never thought of dazzling,an ethereal bloom grasps me:it is too an objet for desire,as shores arise

One drop of rain in the packLooks much the same as its fellows, But let’s pretendThis