inside the cave, past the crevasse,
something abstract
and weathered by imagination;
a spiral or facsimile
of one burns in your head, and
then, everywhere.
fire from somewhere. a-to-c-to
f. stare to long, become bereft.
stare too long, there's nothing
left.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...