Drawing the Shades
Why be outraged now
That dead men take no umbrage?
Adulorum Claymore.
The Locust Eaters
Some heritages
Are far crunchier than mere
Petaliphagy.
Slowdays
The blue wind sings
Time's own dirge, lying at rest
In a turtle's eye.
Tearscapes
Pass the cup of your
Sadness: it runs like fall dreams
Through silent fingers.
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