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// 13. 
// Story: Sapphic Figments 
// by Botched Lobotomy 
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Men write of battles and of glory,
swinging shields, a thousand dead,
that in the red impassioned heat of war,
true paradise is to be found.

Men write in peace their lyrics to the land,
to the taming of the animal, the wild sea,
and through a window see a world surpassing theirs in beauty,
and say that they must have it.

But I say that this little sight,
the window, not the land beyond it,
is the fairest thing on this black earth;
I say there are things more green than grass.

Aphrodite left her husband for another,
for want of neither war nor peace, but love.
I would much prefer to see her radiant face.
her eyes are delicate and wild.