Navegar é preciso; viver não é preciso.  –F. Pessoa She sits, vanity lit, seeking a seam somewhere to slide the knife -a small, warm window -a toehold on her life. Sweaty zoetropes gattle lead lines through eyes and past. Vultures sail on currents of a focus holding fast. Somehow to slip the skin, denude the… Continue Reading

“I deviate, farewell to the tribe.” How did I come to live in this disintegrating stare? Paper… …the parched fundament desiccated in Promethean ovens traced with seductive coils of concertina. It’s my own fault, really. Could have packed wax and tied spine to the naked now. How long thirsting on the burning deep? But the… Continue Reading