...damask damning languorously...

polly jones

For Poesy!—no,—she has not a joy,—

    At least for me,—so sweet as drowsy noons,

And evenings steep’d in honey’d indolence

james abbott whistler

I'm not sure why I drink it. Maybe it's the ritual 
of the cup, the spoon, the hot water, the milk, and the little heap of 
brown grit, the way they come together to form a nail I can hang the 
day on. It's something to do between being asleep and being awake.





anne redpath






Anna Alma-Tadema

Damask damning languorously,
 possessions of magic 

   aristocracies 

 James Dawson Watson






 James Tissot


Thorolf Holmboe 






Maurice Marinot

Come, let us drink 
the last raindrop tears 
from a narcissus cup 
and fill our souls 
with the songs of larks.












***
title - rimbaud
1. line - j.keats
2. line - ron padgett
4. line - kahlil gibran