“Scaling little ladders with glue pots and pails of lysol. I crawl like an ant in mourning over the weedy acres of your brow to mend the immense skull-plates and clear the bald, white tumuli of your eyes. A blue sky out of Oresteia...”
“Scaling little ladders with glue pots and pails of lysol. I crawl like an ant in mourning over the weedy acres of your brow to mend the immense skull-plates and clear the bald, white tumuli of your eyes. A blue sky out of Oresteia...”
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