Skip to main content

Browning Porter


Verge of Tears

Cry me a river that runs to a sea of tears. Such pop-song idioms sop your grief in too much salty gravy; it's understatement to call them hyperbole. Besides! The water is warm and the body buoyant in its rocking arms. Where it's cold and windy is on [...]


No rest do they afford us, comrades. Cheap wreaths, not so far from thorns, they soon begin to itch. In bulk, too hard and thin for bedding, they'll scarcely stuff a sachet pillow, and under a big head crackle all night, inappropriate applause, with [...]