No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story.
Tilt Everything is bricking out. Nothing turns red or black or hits trips or boats up without consequences. By that I mean the man gnawing on his knuckles and his baby daughter somewhere he can’t go...
Silence does not exist: Faced with (im)possibility Things that My body Speaks to me, Usually whispers, Are now made screams.
His strange adventure to his wife he told; not disbelieving was she. 'Piskies are they', said Elowen to Tom, 'from time of old.' - and Tom was Piskie-led - as some still say. It's harmless mischief - but - so they don't scheme - and bring good luck - leave out for them some cream.
Left with understanding The self-servers will always be fed
The conspiracy of ravens
We are all ravens, creatures of cleverness and survival, hiding our croaks beneath
rules of morality and social complexity.
I was born a matchhead and baptized a sinner
Sunday sermons taught fear of flames, no mention that cold burns just the same...