The rectangle of light shared with me two stories. One of energetic reaching and stabbing; another of subtle conjoining and bending.
The first, illustrated with the bristled arms of aggression and the soaring amplitudes of blood magic, alarmed Rat-Tat-Tat impulses on the insides of my insides.
A deep sleep intervened until the second story, having percolated beyond time, all coffee-brown and alert, bubbled over. Gleam, glean, glimmer. Curves, angled sunlight and lilacs over flannels.
K. Shawn Edgar | York ghost