Watch as it spreads and curls like a midnight lily
aching into the open air, blooming with a certain
placidity, a certain un-industrious possibility.
But this is not a world of air. This is a world where
enormous petals of watery bone and compiled time
well-up as a reminder: that what history has planted
we have grown into a black blossom, smoke and fire.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
New York Is Bullying Nuns Who Care for the Dying
New York governor Kathy Hochul recently made headlines for decriminalizing assisted suicide, claiming as motivation her compassion…
Finding a Pulse
The 2020 publication of The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self established Carl Trueman as one…
The West Distorted
G. K. Chesterton’s novel The Flying Inn begins with a strange seaside encounter involving one Misysra Ammon,…
