Category Archives: Pastiche

A Cohen Pastiche

In the morning the moon rises In your eyes paler than January skies The cedars are heavy with the snow of our dreams And I tell you that love was never how it seemed And you say that in your … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Cedars, John MacKenzie, Leonard Cohen, New poems, Pastiche, Poem tweets, Poetry, The Moon, The Rain, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment