practicing ardor: wearing another’s armor, to show untanned skin.
cursory rhymes, eroticoncision, turbulentime, defiant decisions.
practicing ardor: wearing another’s armor, to show untanned skin.
the photo on the mantle’s framed in oak. it’s mostly out of focus. she’s steady on tiptoe, and her hands are quiet. in the foreground, clear, a crocus blooms blue riot; behind and blurred, legs loom long and gone. discovery on Sparrow’s…
she couldn’t walk; she couldn’t stand. i held her tiny life in my two hands. the mother and the others, gone by night away. this one left in the nest in the light of the day. no pity, no guilt, no nudge…
if i were a weatherworndowntowner, i would know my way around these streets, and i could show you passages between the pedwalk and the place my local murder meets: “mark the X, then turn left-face and pace a score of leg-lengths,” i…
they see him, and they stare. the mighty among them look on and despair. how many shocks will one sunrise bring? but such is the way of the desert’s first king. for Sphynx is a lion beneath the man-mask, and this answers…