Tuesday, December 20, 2011

slanted and enchanted

i don't know how we started living at 100 mph in the humidity and heavy breathing or why our lives are now a metaphrastic version of ourselves. there are acres and acres and they are made more lovely by drinking the sun and losing ourselves more and giving ourselves more to the night and moon and this ravine. i wonder if there is more space between me and you or me and myself. the perfect contours of your face look baltic but i know they're not, it's just the cerulean film of the light.


  1. I've missed this! Your words feel like coming home. There's no other way I can describe it. Hope you're well.