snug I rail :: long for my mariner look for you in glass you leave in canvas and burlap your nails hammock :: my ribs etch rope over bone...

The crumpled steel guarded movement its offering, dead bells on felt squares walk your body around its outline, in some distress and rust...

it has been 9 months of waiting for the drizzle and rain to feed the fallen timber or resemble the touch of loved ones you mention to the...