It is not the sturdy
wooden beams
that raise
the house
aloft
that I study
but instead
the rotting
wooden plank
still dark
and wet
that has
washed ashore
alone
that will hold
my attention
forever

It is not the sturdy
wooden beams
that raise
the house
aloft
that I study
but instead
the rotting
wooden plank
still dark
and wet
that has
washed ashore
alone
that will hold
my attention
forever
Fiona Apple waited until she was forty-two to give us a line from when she was fifteen Thirty-one/nineteen Marble smoothness melting to a waxy rot, […]
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“I’ve been here a long time, S. And I never mean to move.” “But moving is all I do,” replies a voice from blue on […]