Tag Archives: Composition

Flux, March

The pristine snow,abandoned, sinks — a sooty skin. Broken objectsrise up. An arm, stairs, cardboardboxes shockedby fetid air, my head  pushes from themud, the primordial churn, seething, thick with saltyactivity. Shit or fish sauce?  Callit March.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments