I left my heart in a seashell city
For no lack of romance do I seek this out. This white cotton bed-room of a flight-jacket wearing dandy.
empty floating feeling randomly calm
“Guayaba, not gwa-vah,” she reminds me. I let this word melt onto my tongue It feels as dense as caramel,…
How many times are we Goin’ to the chapel in the churchyard Mr. Kierkegaard?
I’m entranced by these women successively rising from the molten earth, like a ghostly dance, ripening into the cracked chestnut…
A word that brings comfort, an overwhelming sense of home.
How much bleach do you think we need to scrub the sky?
Revere my lamp; it can only communicate so much when it’s on, but I’ve wired it to suggest: I’m home.
jump in pond