Morpheus hovers in the black bog sky. Everything has been crisped by otherworldly lightning. Starry buffalo churn the black-butter clouds. Morpheus’ sooty will works itself outward from spindly fingertips. The door vibrates. Disembodied faces bathe their words in tar. The saddle we put on our day comes off like a loose swimsuit in this bizarre Dalinian night.… Read More
Sometimes your evening falls down the stairway. It is a stone stairway so the following morning is a sad mess of eggshell shrapnel. This situation births a careful afternoon of reserved dancing, of passing time in very calculated sips. But this formal cavalcade soon loses itself, its edges growing fuzzy, its center whirling out of place.… Read More
Zebulun’s comet flashes like a derailed pendulum. A hot stone mad with joules.
The vast temple in the void. A slow tomb full of elegant regret. The portal is always open, is always closed. The whistle of space being compressed. We believe danger dances most truthfully when death closes its eyes before throwing the dart.… Read More