I want to say how comfortable it is to be in silence, to sit in it and dwell in it, and spin it ’round and ’round. But… Read more “Silence”

In the Gold sheath/ the gilded fur pocket with inner smooth leather stapled still by rusted iron, lays snuggled a ruby ball, a globe of blood red,… Read more “Philosopher’s Stone”

Pt. 1 We are I mean I am popped up pockets of air I am holes held in stacks of cracks, brittle and falling I am the… Read more “Fibers (Cubism)”