#2290

Bast be my lit torch
Protect me until day dawns
I walk in your light

#2289

I am a ghost town

Built around a dried-up well

Oh how the winds cry

“Silent”

amid ash and fog
there you will find an answer
beware the sirens

“Dyatlov”

a tent half buried
the wind keens a mourning song
footprints in the snow

clap for me, darling
I am a corpse filled with rot
yet look how I dance!

wife slumbers in peace
between us the curled cat purrs
Saturday morning

oh, that first embrace
last embrace yet sole embrace
how teacups reverse

%d bloggers like this: