My mouth is a Moorish gate of rhinestones and piercings and spikes.
Our stones shear, like our religions, whose fall so near. There’s the catch, the shiver, the beg for a river. Continue reading
Our stones, they shear, they sheer like our religions.
Who are these family Who the lichens of chaos, Who the lichens of discord ?
I am moss bitter on the tongue I am but stripling Grown through rock, and I fail to feed your Continue reading
Indian scouting party vic Mullineaux w noble braves Brave-Hunter(Jack) & She-Who-Sleeps-Above (Olivia) cracks and lines in the tarmac are Continue reading
say you drive out past the light-line take an orange out of a chest of ice and place it in Continue reading