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
Mosquitos made their home in the knees of cypress trees casting shade over the chalet, on the lakeshore. Water ripples with the whisper of their […]
Feeling blue in my eyes with waves rising. She is there, mermaid girl, in the blue sea. Heart of glass breaks in two, […]
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, […]