No gods will be born this December eve as we stand shod to knees in snow under hard stars within a black ring of
The day is the longest thread, a continuing out and out and out. Mirage: a piece of light tricks the floor to spark. The
I Asked You to Paint a Portrait of Me, So You Asked Me to Write a Portrait of You
by Emmanuel Flores
My fresh palette; our dying conversation about being alive, for you it was the bands no one listened to, not even themselves, and love
“…the white rabbit read out these verses: They told me you had been to her And mentioned me to him She gave me a