Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Duane Vorhees writes


MY TORQUEMADA, ALAS
    --after Heinrich Heine

They tormented me, they tortured me,
they beat me morning and late.
Some did it with their loving
and some with their hate.

They all filled my glasses with poison,
infected the loaves I ate.
Some did it with their loving
and some with their hate.

But thou, the venom that pained me most,
the worst among all the thugs,
never hurt me in hatred
and – never – in love

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