It May Take Two People To Make

And Still The Mad Magnificent Herald Spring Assembles Beauty From Forgetfulness With The Wild Trump Of April:witchery Of Sound And Odour Drives The Wingless Thing Man Forth In The Bright Air.

Someone Asked Me What Home Was And All I Could Think Of Were The Stars On The Tip Of Your Tongue, The Flowers Sprouting From Your Mouth, The Roots Entwined In The Gaps Between Your Fingers, The Ocean Echoing Inside Of Your Ribcage.

Who Pays Any Attention To The Syntax Of Things Will Never Wholly Kiss You

May Came Home With A Smooth Round Stone As Small As A World And As Large As Alone.

The Moon Rattles Like A Fragment Of Angry Candy