I'm the bone on which you could make a wish

split into twins, so I may resonate

where Fates lay, in doorways wreathed

festooned in dreamsilk and bootstraps

cinched down into the bite sized truths

of choice 

Here Lies Thy Voice

spider stingers and the spittle of birds 

ingredients for a loss of words 

in the face of a roiling fleshy wave

of bad news ; 

The...

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