Tag Archives: inky girl
… We spin in gold and frank, incensed words; mirth. Myth. Ribbons of phrase, ink-stained paper hearts, the wrappings and trappings of pain and passion. We fashion our -selves in tissue-thin jars, the scars that come in silver moon slivers … Continue reading
… I write in rain and coffee stained half-moon paper smiles. The cloy and cling of past -life sting smoke. The perfumed poke of pine. The desert after a storm. The smell of snow and silence. Indigo flow and old … Continue reading
… her dna is ink, ………..I think, some splat ….-tered stain ….in violent strain. ..