every feather cast out into the wilds is a map to a god exiled
Month: May 2025
fragments of unfinished people carried by the cold spring tide
bees hover patiently as each petal unfurls into a secret revealed
a deer leaps across the ravine remembers death and transforms into a mayfly
they brand us heretics by color of skin and for the joy of dancing in the rain
echoes incite flame throated bats to birth a new heresy
phantoms gather in spectral fields to prune unripe omens
the librarian burns her name in a weekly ritual and wades through bloodlike fog
limbs grow alien spines and his pen begs for silence by breaking its nip
his thoughts stain the walls neon and unfamiliar bones argue with furniture
elancharan gunasekaran 