"I look at my city. It lies in ruins. I imagine the heaps of concrete as puzzle pieces, but they are disfigured and there is no place for me to sit down and reassemble them." --@MosabAbuToha
"drake's head soup"
rain inside the yarn ball
& a crisp neap whisper
collapsing bog warpspeed
bars · long in the songbook
the day's visor nearing
tides where nothing guides us
this work of sharp darkness
"The question could be framed this way: is Fantasy, as a mode, eschatological?
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