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.. she’s got an ace up her sleeve, i can tell. she’s cast her spell upon this dark-spade sky, bluffed just enough to call us double-down-drowning in ebony, ivory-cloud, club-snubbed us the wrong way with glow. but I’m calling this … Continue reading
we’re not sure how she got there, or where she’s going next, but we both want her and want to be her, so full and free, ballooning for that pinprick ceiling shadow show. so bright as though she might … Continue reading
Mourn that moon, gone too soon, swallowed whole by ombre blue and egg yolk rising. Perhaps she’s got work to do on the other side, as we run and hide and vow of silence in the drench of dawn. … Continue reading
.. , all that yellow jacket honey -coated daybreak, broken -open dawn. a yawn of moon aiding and a-bedding herself in snowy mountain morning duvet. a fray of sky fabric, billowed soft by breeze. …………………….shaken, …………………….stirred, whirred by one last … Continue reading
.. Oh, we’ve got spells. Woo him. Thrill him. Kill him. Spill him to the moon, she’ll hold him fast. Bubble-bubbled, toiled and troubled here in all this midnight mass. You only need bring a broken kite string, your sharpest … Continue reading
Crave her. Save her as a nightlight, lighthouse beacon for the sea. Hold her fast between these hanger clouds, the hush-loud sting of stars. Turn that golden knob. She’s waiting. .. For twiglets.