I. Twenty-five years.Twenty-five million specks of dust.The flakes of rustblew through plastic and boards:life passed…
Tag: Poetry
The way in…I witnessed myself: Trapped in a year,a model in a bottle,sealed in the…
A porcelain jar of skeleton keys
go to nothing,
lost their use in time.
The red sun rakes the grass, caressing the metal holding the hefty tabletop desk, where…
