HONEYSUCKLE

DITTO

The Black Narcissus

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It’s near the end of May; the jasmine is fading slowly but the hillside where I live is replenished with swathes of wild honeysuckle trailing down in surprise ruptures of scent as you find yourself passing by in the dark: the nectarous, sweet siren call of honeysuckle. I have always loved it so much. And yet, to my knowledge, this scent has yet to be convincingly captured in a perfume. I have never smelled one that even comes close.

IMG_2575

Lyn Lifshin

HONEYSUCKLE

bees, my

skin smells 
of sun, the

insides of
 roses. I want

to eat that 
light. Every

thing that

grows does.

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FAIR flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouch’d thy honey’d blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet:
  No roving foot shall find thee here,         5
  No busy hand provoke a tear.

From morning suns and evening dews
At first thy little…

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