quiet is the fantasy: existence smothered between thunder clouds
Tag: art
nobody needs to hurry: the body grows soft with weeds
the summer pond turns pale whenever dawn arrives through the mist
summer: this shell surrenders and the lethargy takes over bone and matter
in that quiet space above the empty field nothingness exists indefinitely
magic simply survives because of: you
ceremonial undoing: a rather finicky veil of web carried off by the summer wind
a tendril of my shadow cast into the gnashing maw of waves
quietude: is the modus operandi of the coast this summer morning
tiny yellow flowers carried downstream: letters to ghosts
elancharan gunasekaran 