Daily Archives: April 16, 2015
. Blond from woke, whiskers climbed last dry blooms, delicate leaves, spring flames like the roof. Mother: three quarter the could, the blond pale midnight like whiskers of climbed white desert, bed of moon. We woke the spotted shriveling blooms. … Continue reading
.. Who hasn’t wished on these intricate faces, facets set in ebony by inertia and our own longing for constellation -esque order? Who hasn’t held a sky in their chest, pressed down their own atmosphere for fear of drowning? Who … Continue reading
… This morning I moved a comma with great effort , wielding that tiny black fulcrum like a wedge, perhaps the lever of a pulley, tugging up the corners of your smile. ..