MARY FROST

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“Punk-fuckin’-rock!”

A B I R A M: The Dead Poet »

abiram:

I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face

All radiant and unshadowed of distress,

And as of old, in music measureless,

I heard his golden voice and marked him trace

Under the common thing the hidden grace,

And conjure wonder out of emptiness,

Till mean things…