Stories for the inverse light Grief and despair sunset river anthology
And I will plant, in the propitious season, a bit of hell
flowing tender alongside redness of this small looking west;
grape vines will be walls, laws sewing what I believe,
small flies and fear filters installed inside the time thru the trees.
But this was undoubtedly war: tribes, classes and sets of cries
were nailed down in Benway style upon a violent wavy lime light.
A drop of us was over the stairs during that winter
which flagged every single joy ware.
Sesia river would trickle for years the rare,
the only rigid livid unstoppable scare.