November 2008
1 post
8 tags
Angle A
Dank moth on the periphery a distraction Focus could recover identity but The sky drops cold with weight of evening And heels scuffle slow black water. Tormenting face in the lake, undrowned, Returning gaze distorted through water A risk beneath the surface, an impulse to respond Liminal recognition of moth as movement Chased in accumulating black water Layout of the streets returns in desperation...