Category: Fall 2017
That deluge of haze just before sundown. Spring shakes Winter’s hand goodbye. Now the day has truly gone. Street lamps glow a sodium pink When blue milk pacifies, the copper moon sliding up a sleeve of glass, her luminous
When it was over, Richard Rackham took three careful steps away, sat on the closed toilet seat, and removed his socks. Remarkably, they were unsoiled, save for one fleck of red. It was fortunate that he’d happened to leave
November curled itself around my spine like cigarette smoke, seeping into me. December froze in her grey web. I want to wake from the dark, sleep naked in moon-cooled dirt, deep in the night where graves spread like black
Time smooths rainbow hardness of tree basalt, vermilion jasper, silvery granite and pale feldspar with the help of humdrum but patient jeweler of tides, volcano-born, earthquake-quarried, heat-cracked, wind-carved, death shapes compact among the rocks; it drifts light as a
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