Art * (i) No stranger is entering the room. (I’ve thought of it a thousand times) A final scene , in frozen zoom. Effluvium; A muskscent from a love above, yet menstrual metallic. A joke on angelic. She drapes my drawn face. damp. I shapen long words for my last…

I may aim myself in an evocation of still ghosts

Oh, Until I could dip, cupped hands from another holy River

And Coerce You To Beauty — TW: Suicide How Art thou? Do you drink from the deep sink of inspired creations at an art museum, gallery, or maybe a street art fair on a street near you? Sometimes? Do you have something on one of your walls that you could only fall for? And, can’t help but stare? It’s…

It’d all turned out all right

It is darkish as an attic-trunk’s photograph/ As Sepia.

To salve us

Between me and a shaman * Someone set up a meeting Between me and a shaman It was casual enough, drinks, there was a game on My attention was not to be undivided I thought that he might start with a prayer He looked the part, though, nice jacket. Motioning towards the…

And free for once too