(Quivering Light Unsettled)

— itchy skin, stone and rusty, hangs from heaven like sickle

tongue of mud and something musty, the dreams from pain do trickle

Hang me up to show bankruptcy, dry me out like weed

Shove that oar to push me up sea, that i might end my bleed

paddle to the ocean, they said when i was small, paddle like you mean it they echoed

that i could tread such water at all, shocks the souls those tides have speckled

Proclaim me burlap, weep my days, pretend i’ve gone deep river

— but’when you di’still my quaking frame, i pray you’ll feel that shiver

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.