If I had the wings of an Angel
The curve and camber of lofted windowlight. An epithet for the sun.
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Brand "X" , and ACME, poems and stories. Surreal, sappy, funny, horrific, and human.
Month: September 2020
Shady doings…
Embowered in dappledark the mushroom kin shake out their seasonings in a randy rain of spores A fallen pollen for the dusky earth Shaded with umbrellas of gills
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The wan sun on Athabasca.Her dress of snapdragon lace. A dwindling down to frost, this night.An unexpected need for gloves. Keep moving, I must.
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I told you, from a distance, that I loved you, and was blackened with the earned shame of the illicit. Noses sniffed. Fingers pointed. Hands covered whispering lips. But you? You had a look of surprised wonder, and blushed redly, uncaring of the devil’s radio.
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In churlish dream, ragged clouds of storm, bruised and tumorous. Have I lived enough, done enough, loved enough? Must I take the knife?
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