A forest is an ink bottle.
The shore, a slate that lets you make mistakes.
Ceriths and cowries, keyhole limpets—
all the spaces the universe fit into
after it broke into pieces.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
A forest is an ink bottle.
The shore, a slate that lets you make mistakes.
Ceriths and cowries, keyhole limpets—
all the spaces the universe fit into
after it broke into pieces.