et facta est lux In the language you struggle with, light is something you open like a door, and kill like a bird, neck wrung into cursive in your warm hand. The inside of…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
et facta est lux In the language you struggle with, light is something you open like a door, and kill like a bird, neck wrung into cursive in your warm hand. The inside of…