Where we’ll go, we do not know
through tangled storms and winds that blow. . .
Somewhere inside herself, the singular woman had begun drawing patterns of long-ago flights. Every fall, without looking, she knew when the geese left their breeding grounds.
From spring tide to spring tide. I grow lush. I grow hidden.
The lonely ruins had once been a thriving textile factory and Nick’s place of employment. He imagined clouds billowing from the now collapsed smokestacks, pumping the soul into the city. Life made sense back then.
As Paulie's eyes adjusted, she located the dressing table. She crept towards it and slid open the second drawer on the left. Just as she was about to slip her hand in to grab the brush, she noticed some shadowy lumps in the drawer. She leaned closer...
We are like children who ask
where the wind lived
before all this homesick blowing began.
The boy is beautiful. He hears them say it as the winding key coaxes his gears into motion, as he wakes in a building of steel and sunlight.
"Branches alone do not make a forest, however magical they are.”
for eons i have nurtured / this valley of woes / within these lines is a prayer
You were
Someone who said
My eyes were shaped like cherry blossoms