A kiss remembers; how tongues launched bodies into orbits of white nothing, milky ways of no worries, eyes shut beneath a river of twisting..
“I don’t usually do this” Your mumbled half-lie drops through the air alongside his belt. Eyes dart left, then right, then left, then right..
SEMINAL BLUES (Post conversation with death) “Dying / Is an art, like everything else.” -Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus” Your words do not meet..
still life with the evangelist have you heard the gospel? – did you know that birdsong..
Reflections In grade 8, my hand landed on the delicate parts of a classmate. This did not look anything like me: a well-behaved boy..
KNOW US BETTER
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