Miracle how many, and quickly before stopping each and any day: Perhaps more fortunate to be gifted wings, even just one—This oracle fist I carry is the worst of it, never well-defended. Simply not built to be a moat upon a fortress,And more often than not a beam of light manages to delay me by …
Ha, distance. What a song. There’s no such Thing as space from one empty sea and another. Only clocks to wind between states of being—Now, I am; once I was. For instance:Saturdays at the hospital nowhere didn’t smell Like soap gone bad, my father led the way From room to room. We went to see …