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Chopsticks in the loose grasp of a metal hand Spongy stilts of a robotic penguin Squint and it’s […]
Chopsticks in the loose grasp of a metal hand Spongy stilts of a robotic penguin Squint and it’s […]
Not just on the wall— the writing’s on the sky, the river, the bridge, your hands. Wouldn’t you love to
That is the dream I had when I was stuck in that little town, wishfully watching planes in the sky,
Six men haul a jet ski out of a placid sea that’s flashing cream-soda in the evening sun; they drag
The sea washed scarlet that night. The tide rushed in—swelling and breaking—washing all traces out to sea on the
why in the night when the psyche goes widening over the long and intricate landscape where sleep knits together the