I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Little Sleep’s Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight, excerpt
you cling to me hard, as if clinging could save us. I think you think I will never die, I think I exude to you the permanence of smoke or stars, even as my broken arms heal themselves around you. —Galway Kinnell