Tag: fiction

someday I might be like a moth rising out of a living flame

we paint our throats cosmic blue and forget the illusions of flesh

summer moths feed on the spiralling rumors of crimson moss

the slow drip of obsidian tar from owl wings night comes at a price

antlers of brittle gold bridge the concrete communion of flesh and summer sky

in the language of mist hills wake like slumbering beasts

cold winds scream at crows as ghost ships unberth and set sail for the void

round the river’s bend you follow ripples that forget to end

raise stone mugs high and toast to the old copper moon

tide meets rust and symbiosis occurs behind veiled designs