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.. Tonight, tonight, my plans I make: to spin real hair from all this useless strawman’s gold, to hold …………(perhaps) a child of my own instead of stealing someone else’s. To call myself a man, a sham, a king, a … Continue reading
.. The clock is ticking (me off) again, tocking too loud again, clicking and clocking the hours lost. The moon is mocking my lack of sleep, my uncounted sheep, the tilted cost of thinking too hard at 2am. I, too, … Continue reading
.. She’s a white curl snarl of bright stone, shone in fire and song. We watch her tail turn black, wane smudge into this talon-punctured scrim. She swims across the inky ocean, curved into her own dark flank. She’s listening … Continue reading
“I’m the thing monsters have nightmares about.” – Buffy the Vampire Slayer .. Do monsters dream? A swirl of stakes and garlic and revealing mirrors and silver bullets? Are talons sharpened on the wool of counted sheep? Howl at that … Continue reading
… They’re going. They’re shifting sands, changing hands, altering stars. They matter. They’re smattering themselves in nothing less than always, nothing more than forever. They’re clever little waving things, winged cur rents, working theories, bright sigh -entific discoveries. Microscopic dreams. … Continue reading
… perhaps, this is (definitelyprobablymaybe) the second to last (to last to last) ………………(too fast) poem i shall ever pen , she tells herself. ……………………..and laughs. .. prompted by toads.