Search

Leaves

Tag

short

dying in a land that was always strange

The wind will be all that matters.  And the rain, too.

love in the time of death

... Death has begun to grip even me with its own arms, its own skeletal wrists bejeweled with anger and contempt.

meaning of the word

...in knowing the meaning, i might control it.

in creases

There is a crease in my sleeve... what does it prophecy?

bus to somewhere else

There is a symmetry in odd places.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑