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Articles
Stained Glass
My father holds a panel of glassbetween us: we are both bathed blue.Wordlessly, we let the light passthrough. Where blade scores, glass breaks true. Cut pieces are placed side...
Walking the Sea
Walking the sea, I think of the small diaspora of the hermit crab, and the unshackled shell. I think of the sealed spiral, niche and cupola the nautilus crafts...
Love the Lovely Boomerang
Love the lovely boomerang remands, in command and countermand, circumnavigations that sang exile and reply out of the waiving hand. The little hertz of heartbeat (or the singing voice...