Buried moon, buried moon Who to talk about at noon When dreams are plundered by light And powdered in gold and charcoal dust. Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse and at falter to surmise the scanty slumbering traces that…
Buried moon, buried moon Who to talk about at noon When dreams are plundered by light And powdered in gold and charcoal dust. Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse and at falter to surmise the scanty slumbering traces that…
Why can’t we sleep with the Gods? be with them turn their thoughts to foam touch and revere their lapis lazuli skin until myths flicker in the cave and the earth booms at their voices The rain from Olympus is…
…Happiness is the uncle you never knew about, who flies a single-engine plane onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes into town, and inquires at every door until he finds you asleep midafternoon as you so often are during the unmerciful…
You are a fair moon-ray stinging my eyeballs whilst I wait for Mercury to fall the Titans to cry and tilting shadows to moor over conversing stars impatient to die and reborn a thousand times. Art by Johann Peter…