Singin’ in the Rain
From afar, you’d be able to hear the patters of loafers as they ran to their doors, newspapers covering their hair. The mustached flower man grumbles as he packs the remaining daisies to… Continue reading
From afar, you’d be able to hear the patters of loafers as they ran to their doors, newspapers covering their hair. The mustached flower man grumbles as he packs the remaining daisies to… Continue reading
both feet stepping on the sharp wet rocks — and six-inch stilletoes tied against the neck — wading the length of the dragon river — mascara pouring down the face to mix with… Continue reading
Close and think: favorite smell is grass right after dawn, the sunlight tinting the night’s dew: frolick and lie down, jump if you can; running the body across the sharp — yet safe… Continue reading
The book does not end on its close; on its final period on its final page: the book rolls over its spine unto its cover and rewrites; mixing the hard font of the… Continue reading
O spring, O joyous day! Which cracks the snow upon the sidewalks. Oh melted wonderland of burning slush, and hark the praises of the nightingale to the lovely maidens, and how they curl… Continue reading
At first, there was one. She emerged head first, her hair tangled with seaweed. Naked, her bosoms floated on the water as she rose. The curves of her back and hips slid ever… Continue reading