The stitching of the series reveals our nomad names.
It’s not too late to play the shortest day against the new hour of ice-moon. Hello.
The new book climbed the house with prognostications we could’t claim.
The dream neurologists said I forgot I had forgotten you.
The spinal cord refusing.
Others would be looking, not for us, but for themselves
I can’t feel anymore, she said.
We’re frozen to the empty skating pond.
He said, the muse tangled your hair through tree branches gone thin.
Away from sun.
Take heart, he said–
It’s all temporary.
“It’s not too late to play the shortest day against the new hour of ice-moon. Hello.“
The trick of Hermes. The song of Orpheus. The Sun will eternally return. Watch.
“ The new book climbed the house with prognostications we could’t claim.”
[!] Really {!} Wow in my brain.