it’s about rhymes. it’s about slightly s[h]ifted echoes of the times we used our hands (for steadier, they were, than feet) to stake our claims and take our stands. but we don’t stay still for long; some of us study the Fleet,…
it would not be recognized by many in this day and this age. when the [one who would be] Fleet first saw it, he blinked, and slowly—not too slowly—turned the page. he read on for a measure, as much in ears as…
he’s chosen a hotel next to a ‘works, again, i notice. i enter, ring the bell at the desk of the Laughing Lotus. the proprietor blanches when i show my badge, and takes me to the suite without a word. he glances…
“he was here, and no mistake. his sign pervades this place.” i speak as measured as i’m able. it helps me if i pace. “you would know it, if any would,” says Lufkin, calm as i remember. he always had that talent.…