genes
mischief makes perfect:
becoming restless with tucked up feet and fussed up knotted bits of me dangling from the balcony like so many fraying prayer flags, like so many wishes whipped into the wind.
today it’s a dark night in the land of no sunshine, no starshine, just clouds of exhaust and peoples voices rippling crescendos while angels stand guard ‘round the side of you, untangle themselves from rail way tracks and black cats to jump out of the way just out of time.
stumble then rise. the dead can dance, can’t they, when the living breathe into their lives?
TIN CAPTAIN’S LAIR
rhia’s heart versus the saint john sadness
hammock view
halifax: the watchtower
