By itself, the room turns grey, turns into a manipulative shadow; the walls leak their paint like…
Sublime thoughts race through my mindArtists, composers giving meaning to lifeCreations demonstrating better parts of us…
Will there be anything left of meyou will want to keep — some scrap of page, perhapsa bauble — a piece of glass?Will…
The innkeeper holds secrets, moist and tender theyswallow truths and lies, digesting the precursor towards the finale, towards the…
I sit down, and I hear a rustling outside. Probably a raccoon,Sifting through the garbage. I do not get up.
Tanka